


Wearing White Will Make the Blood Look Pretty

by Madamn_Resident



Category: Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Albert Wesker Lives, Blood and Injury, Blood and Torture, Broken Bones, Death Threats, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Recovery, Revenge, Rough Sex, Secret Identity, Suicide, Threats of Violence, Torture, Violence, Violent Sex, poor Chris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2019-11-06 15:00:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 89,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17941919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madamn_Resident/pseuds/Madamn_Resident
Summary: Takes place right after the events of Resident Evil 5AU in which Wesker survives, though barely alive, he tracks down Chris and hides in his apartment, waiting for the perfect moment to kill him. Only to find out that it's Leon's apartment instead. And Leon being the innocent hero that he is, feels sorry for the injured stranger and unknowingly helps a mass murderer recover to full health.How does Wesker thank him? By going after his best friend and beating the living shit out of him.





	1. March 7th

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this fic is inspired by Baccano!
> 
> I'm a die hard Resident Evil fan and I can't remember if Leon and Wesker ever met face-to-face in the actual games. I'm just going to assume they didn't, because that's the only way this story is going to work. XD
> 
> The first part of this story is probably going to be pretty mild. The second part of the story, will be a lot more violent. I'll put warnings up before those chapters.
> 
> Oh, and if Chris is your favorite character... I'm sorry in advance.

March 7, 2009

 

            He didn’t know what pain felt like anymore. Or to put it accurately, he couldn’t differentiate the pain from anything else. Every cell and nerve was on fire with it. every thought and every feeling was oppressed by it. It was all that consumed him, in his mind and in his body.

He never could have imagined the feeling of this much agony. He never could have imagined the way things would turn out.

How could he have failed? All that careful planning, all the countless hours spent researching, all of his hard work…destroyed. Reduced to ashes. Just like he was. He supposed that’s what made healing all the more excruciating. He thought he had died. He should have died. He _wished_ he had died. If only to escape the torture of slowly coming back together.

After falling in the volcano and getting hit with a rocket launcher his body had been reduced to scorched skin cells and molecular bacteria. He shouldn’t have been able to survive yet the Uroboros virus had mutated the DNA in his cells; giving them the ability to regenerate and sustain life even in the most critical condition.

In any other circumstance he’d be absolutely fascinated and smug with the idea of being indestructible. But at the moment, he wished for anything but this excruciating existence. He even wished for death. It was like he could feel every charred particle of matter that made up his body slowly and agonizingly dragging along the ground toward a collective black mass. He wanted to scream but his throat hadn’t formed yet. Neither had his eyes or nose. He could see nothing, he could say nothing and he could feel nothing but pain.

It was pure torment. And he had no idea how long it was going to last. For all he knew days had gone by since his battle with Chris Redfield and Sheva Alomar. Or perhaps it had been months. Or even years. It certainly felt like years with each slow crawl of scar tissue across the coals that served as his only measure of time.

He frequently asked himself how much longer he’d have to endure this hell. How much longer until he could move and feel the ground beneath him. He didn’t know how much of his body had regenerated so far but he sensed he was healing a bit faster with each passing moment. Not much faster by any means but a little. He figured his cells were slowly getting stronger the more time passed. At least he hoped that to be the case if only to soothe his conscious that this torture wouldn’t last forever.

But it indeed felt like forever before he could finally gain a semblance of his being. Until he could finally twitch a muscle and a finger. And it felt like an eternity more before he felt the presence of his eyes on his face and then his nose. Even longer still before it was functionally releasing haggard breaths with each staggering rise of his chest. Even though he could feel his eyes he could not open them yet, for they felt melted shut and crested in black tar.

How many more days had passed before he could finally open them? How many more eternities stretched on before he could finally see with them? Before he could finally part his blistered lips and let out his first cry of pain?

It had felt like an everlasting infinity. Like several lifetimes had passed in this cycle of misery and suffering that would never end.

But one day it did.

 -----------------------------------

He was finally whole again but it took him eons to actually feel that way. He spent hours lying in the ashes of the volcano, staring up at the sky with glazed eyes. His body was almost completely mended, save for raw patches of blistered skin here and there. His immune system was depleted and his ribs were visible under the layer of soot that covered him . He was in his normal human body. All traces of Uroboros seemed gone. But he could still feel it within him, crawling underneath the surface, trying to rebuild and gather strength to survive. He felt weak and exhausted. He no longer felt the unbearable agony tearing through his body but his bones still screamed and his muscles still burned.

It was a while before he could move, to roll on his stomach and crawl out of that pit of hell. A pond of lava had been mere inches from where he had regenerated and he could feel the sweltering heat on his bare skin even as he gained more distance from it.

After what seemed like another long lapse of time he was able to climb out of the volcano. He took a moment of respite at his small accomplishment before slowly making his way down the barren slopes.

 ------------------------

He continued to make his way across whatever continent the plane had crashed on. Was he still in Africa? He could only assume as much. As the sun on his skin felt just as hot as the volcano. And he shuddered at the memory of how it felt to fall into the lava. He had no clothes to protect him, no shoes to ease his wobbled stagger, and no weapons to defend himself. He was completely vulnerable, his body still wasn’t completely healed. The virus inside him was weak and it seemed it had used the last of its strength to regenerate his body back together. He presumed it would be a very long time before he was at the peak of what he used to be before this whole cockup. Though Uroboros had been the pinnacle of evolution and had made him stronger than ever before, even _it_ still had its limits.

And it seemed like those limits were maxed out for the time being.

He didn’t know how much further he could walk on. Every step strained his muscles, every stumble scared his bare feet. He was exhausted, extremely famished, and dying of thirst.  He knew the virus was the reason he could last longer than a human could without those essentials but he yearned to have those resources right about now. In his condition he didn’t know how long he could go without food or water especially after all the time that had passed.

He was at his weakest point. Anyone or anything could overtake him right now and he wouldn’t have a chance against them. Through all his depletion and fatigue, he knew this. But that didn’t stop him from having only one objective consume his mind.

Killing Chris Redfield.

 ------------------------

Three days later he stumbled across a domestic airport. It was well into the night. After three days filled with enduring the heat of the sun and fighting off wild lions and continuing onward without even taking time to rest, he was unmistakably exhausted. But he hardly paid heed to what his body was begging for, what his head was screaming for. Because Chris Redfield was the only thing he cared about getting his hands around right now. He didn’t care that he was starving, or tired, or dehydrated, or that the last lion that tried to eat him left brutal scratches along his back that still weren’t healing. He only cared about what came next and that was the plane on the runway.

The airport was small and the night was inky black allowing him to hide easily in its shadows. He was able to sneak into the vicinity and up to the luggage carts where one was left unattended while the workers were guiding a plane in that just landed. There didn’t seem to be many employees that worked here. Even security was stretched thin making it easier for him to dodge through their blind spots and approach a stationary small plane. When he made sure no one was looking he climbed into the cargo stowage and hid in the very back of the unit. He tucked himself behind stacks of suitcases and luggage and heard the voices of passengers and flight attendants outside boarding the plane.

A thud rattled the floor as more baggage was thrown into the stowage followed by voices speaking in Swahili. He wasn’t really listening to them as he was trying to control his breathing so that they didn’t hear him.

After a while they stopped loading luggage and the back of the plane closed up. He could hear the engines whirring and he knew they were about to take off. He didn’t know where this plane was headed but he’d figure that out once they stopped.

He calmly let out a slow exhale. It was the first time that he could finally take a small reprieve, at least until they landed.

 ------------------------

During the flight Wesker took the liberty of helping himself to all the luggage that surrounded him. He was able to find some clothes that fit him but not exactly to his taste. It seemed most of these bags belonged to colorful tourists. He did find a green duffle bag, no doubt belonging to a soldier and found more suitable clothes to wear compared to the tan kaki’s and floral shirts he found earlier. The duffle bag had a pair of black combat boots along with extra pairs of military fatigues and a black jacket. Though they were a size small Wesker didn’t waste any time putting them on. He was already cold as it was but since the plane had climbed altitude the air was getting chillier and thinner, making it hard to breathe.

The jacket was helping but his body didn’t feel like it was producing enough heat to keep himself warm. His body was still enervated and having trouble keeping his organs functional.

Wesker dumped a bunch of clothes in a pile and arrange the suitcases in a makeshift shelter before settling down in it and crossing his arms over his chest. He’d just have to toughen it out until the next airport.

 ----------------------------

He didn’t know how much time past before the plane landed. He wished he could have slept but it had been so cold that he had been shivering the entire way. When the plane got lower to the ground the temperature got a bit warmer but Wesker still felt miserable. He hadn’t been able to find any food or water back here and on top of that he could feel every individual blood vein burning in his bloodshot eyes. It was giving him a massive headache. And when the back door of the cargo unit opened it made Wesker cringe and shrink away from the light.

He could hear voices. They chatted as they unpacked the luggage and Wesker grew more alert as he realized he needed to move before they saw him.

If it had been any other time before his pathetic present state, he would have simply taken them out. But he knew he didn’t have the strength at the moment and it wouldn’t do well to get cornered by the airport security if something went wrong. He waited until the voices receded and that’s when he quickly moved out of his hiding spot and scrambled out of the back of the plane while the employee’s backs where turned toward their luggage cart.

It was daylight out and the light from the sun nearly made him blind but he moved as fast as he could past the plane engines and toward the back exit of the airport. He went in and climbed the first flight of stairs to his right. He went through the door at the top and found himself in the hustle and bustle of the terminals.

“Excuse me.” said a women to his left. Wesker turned to her and saw she was wearing a security uniform. She was giving him a questioning look and before she could ask what he was doing coming out of the emergency exit, Wesker quickly turned away and headed down the atrium before she could say another word.

Wesker put as much distance as he could between them before he was certain he was completely out of her sight. He stopped to catch his breath a moment, quietly cursing that he was already winded. After he pulled himself together he looked up and saw the flight displays hanging from the ceiling. Each flight and time was listed along with the city. And most importantly, the date.

Wesker’s eyes slightly widened at it.

October 8, 2009.

Eight months.

Eight months had passed since his fight with Chris and Sheva. It had taken eight months for him to come back together. Eight months of agony.

 _Well, at least it hadn’t been years…_ Wesker thought to himself darkly. But it sure had felt like it. And now he was going to get payback. He was going to find Chris and he was going to make him wish he’d never been born.

Wesker tried to rationalize his situation. He tried to think where Chris was likely to be by now. After Africa, Chris definitely would have reported back to the BSAA, back to HQ where they were based out of the United Kingdom. Unless he was assigned another mission, that’s were Chris would be.

Wesker set his sights on the next flight to the UK.

 ---------------------------------

He snuck from flight to flight on the back of the planes much like he did with the first one. And during each of his flights he went through the baggage that occupied his space. In one of the briefcases he found a laptop. Interesting. Considering most people had those on their carry on. He booted it up and easily hacked into it. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the plane had a Wi-Fi signal

It didn’t take him long to find out that the laptop didn’t belong to anyone important. Just some college student that was into watching anime and shopping for cheap college books on amazon. He typed the BSAA main page into the search engine and made quick work of logging in under the radar. He searched into their record assignments and looked under files starting with R for Redfield.

He quickly found two Redfield’s and clicked onto the file that said Chris.

When the file opened it pretty much read every assignment that Chris had been on including Africa. Not a detail seemed to be left out about what happened in Africa including how Albert Wesker was eliminated.

Wesker nearly snapped the laptop in two but he kept his calm and scrolled down the page to the most recent entry. He nearly froze at what he read.

Chris Redfield was currently reassigned to Washing D.C. for a briefing with the President of the United States and the task force of Homeland Security.

“ _You’re fucking kidding me_.”

 ----------------------------

Wesker was livid. Not only did it take him twice as long to revert his destination but now he was also even more worse for wear. Throughout his entire journey he didn’t pause once to take care of himself. So caught up in anger, and revenge, he forgot all thoughts of hunger, pain, and exhaustion. The only thing on his mind was killing Chris Redfield and making him feel just as much pain as Wesker had felt when he fell in the lava. As much pain as he was feeling right now.

Wesker choked out a cough in the middle of his thoughts of vengeance. His ribcage convulsed and his bones felt like they were rattling because of how much he was shivering. His throat felt raw and his jaw tight. When his coughing fit ceased his body ached and throbbed as if he just got the shit kicked out of him.

He knew he was unwell. He knew he was on the edge of death’s door, but he was still standing and he wasn’t going to fall until Chris was falling with him this time.

 ------------------------

It was another day before he finally arrived in Washington. Wesker was a little delirious by that point but he never lost sight of his goal. It wasn’t too hard to get himself out of the airport and into a cab. He had stolen some cash from passengers’ luggage in the freight hold so he had enough to get him to where he was going. When he had hacked into the BSAA database he had found all of Chris Redfield’s information including the address where he was staying.

Wesker didn’t really have any plans beyond that. He knew he was going to get his revenge he just hadn’t really thought of the details. He didn’t have any weapons on him but he did have the element of surprise. He always imagined ripping Chris’s heart out of his chest with his bare hand. He did it to Spencer and he remembered how wickedly satisfying it had been. He knew doing it to Chris would only be ten times better.

It grew late by the time the cab got to his destination. He over paid the driver and didn’t wait for change as he got out of the car and staggered toward Chris Redfield’s apartment. But just before he reached the front of the building the door opened and two men stepped out. Wesker quickly hid in the nearby alleyway, it was easy for him to slip into the shadows at this time of night. He planned to slip past the men once they turned away but then he caught sight of their faces.

They were both tall and well-muscled. One of them had longish blond hair. The other had short brown hair and he was even more muscular then the blond. It only took Wesker a second to realize that the brown haired one was none other than Chris Redfield himself. Wesker’s breath froze in his lungs.

This was his chance. Chris was only a few feet away from him. He could catch him and then….

And then what?

He didn’t have any weapons. And Wesker wasn’t exactly in any shape to wrestle the man into submission. He still hadn’t fully recovered from his wounds and if anything all this traveling had only made his condition worse. Plus, Chris had company. He wouldn’t be able to take them both on alone.

Chris and his friend were already walking away down the sidewalk and Wesker moved from the shadows to slip past the apartment door.

He had a new plan. He would wait for Chris to come back and then surprise him in his own home. And even better, Wesker knew Chris well enough to be certain that he had some guns stashed in his living space. Wesker could arm himself and then easily get his revenge on the man.

Wesker took a glance at the name rack by the door and found which numbered apartment Chris had under his fake name. Finding the assigned fake name for Chris had been easy. All related information to his records was in the same file Wesker had hacked into. The BSAA really needed to modify their cyber security. Wesker moved down the lobby and up the stairs taking longer than average due to his weak condition. He had never hated climbing stairs this much in his life but he assured himself that in the end it would all be worth it.

When he finally reached Chris’s door he was out of breath and barely standing on his feet. There were black spots appearing in his vision and he shook his head in an attempt to shake them away. His eyes eventually cleared and he felt around the door frame for a key, already finding the apartment to be locked. But if Wesker knew Chris then he knew the man would always keep a spare hidden somewhere within easy access just in case he lost his.

He searched the top of the doorframe and broke out into a smirk when he found the spare key.

 _Always so predictable…_ Wesker told himself. Though, he hadn’t predicated how things would turn out between them in Africa. Perhaps he shouldn’t underestimated Redfield again. This time he had element of surprise but he still needed to be careful.

Wesker unlocked the door and slipped inside. The place was completely dark but flipping on the light switch quickly alleviated that. He was in a hallway that branched out into the kitchen, living room, a small office, and a bedroom. Wesker explored the apartment; the place wasn’t big but it wasn’t small either. The kitchen was adequate with an island and three barstools on the side. The living room was descent and spacious. There was one bedroom that was big and lined with tall windows and there was a small office space at the other end of the hall past the living room. And in that office was where Wesker found a handgun stashed away in the compartment of the desk along with ammunition.

Wesker took them and paced through the apartment coming up with a plan on how all of this was going to go down. Should he wait in the living room? No, the bedroom would be better. Chris would come in completely unsuspecting and it would be best to catch him right before he fell asleep.

A cruel smile played on Wesker’s lips as he thought of ways to make Chris suffer right up until he was begging to be killed. Wesker would drag out Chris’s fears first. He would surprise him by appearing out of the shadows of the corner, holding the gun to his head so that he didn’t get any funny ideas. Chris would be speechless at first and the horror in his eyes would be wider than the moon shining in through the window. Wesker would laugh and then Chris would eventually snap out of it and try to fight. But before he would lunge, Wesker would blow a cap in his knee or perhaps both knees. Yes, definitely both knees. And once Chris was crippled on the floor unable to move, Wesker would take him apart piece by piece. And he’d save his heart for last. After Chris is rasping and choking on his own blood with the final moments of his life flashing before his eyes, Wesker would shove his hand in his chest and rip out his heart so fast it would still be beating. Then Wesker would make him watch as he slowly squeezed until it was reduced to nothing but a clump of gore.

Then Chris would die…

And it was all going to be so perfect.

A thud snapped Wesker out of his illusions and he quickly turned down the lights and sank back into the shadows just in time before the door to the entrance gently swung open. Every muscle in Wesker’s body drew up tight like a string. His breath came out shakily and he worried that he might have forgotten to relock the door on his way in, which would give Chris an early warning that something was amiss. The shadow in the doorway halted, as if confirming Wesker’s fears. It was in that instant Wesker knew his plans were already deteriorating. He didn’t have a chance to retreat to the bedroom before the front door swung open and now he was stuck hiding in the dark end of the hallway. He already suspected things weren’t going to go the way he pictured them but he had hoped it would turn out better than just a single shot to Chris’s head.

Though, it seemed that would be his only option at this point if he wanted this to end as smoothly as he intended it too.

Wesker rose his gun up at the shadow standing in the doorway. He was frustrated that this would all end too soon. The moment Chris turned that light switch on, Wesker would take his shot, if only to see his stunned expression at the sight of a dead man resurrected before his brains stained the door behind him. If one moment was all Wesker got, then he would relish it forever. But despite his intent, Wesker’s hand was shaking and his vision seemed foggy.

He blamed it on the darkness and he told himself that once the lights flashed on there would be no quiver of hesitation, only the determination of resolve. But deep down, a small part of him knew that was a lie and that the real truth was something more primal. Something he’s never felt in ages.

He was scared.

And he knew that if he didn’t kill Chris with that first shot then Chris was going to kill him. For good this time. He couldn’t ignore the fact that he was weaker then Chris right now. He knew it. And Chris would know it too once he saw him. Wesker had to kill Chris and he had to do it fast. Otherwise, it was Africa all over again.

Wesker took in a deep breath to try and steady himself but he was still shaking. He told himself that he could do this. It was only going to take one shot. And then everything would be over and he could gloat over that muscle-head’s dead corpse afterwards.

The lights flicked on and Wesker went perfectly stiff. His finger twitched on the trigger but he found his hand had succumbed to the same paralysis as the rest of his body. His lungs felt empty and his eyes burned from how long he stared without blinking.

Standing in the doorway was Leon Scott Kennedy.


	2. October 10th

“I died once. I will never forget the cold, dark fingers of death reaching out for me.” – Albert Wesker.

 

For a split second neither man moved. Wesker was at a complete loss for words and actions. He had been fully prepared for Chris to be the one coming through that door. But seeing someone he didn’t recognize had left him frozen in shock. And the same could be said for the other man, who looked just as baffled as Wesker.

But after that split second of confusion, things quickly turned into a blur of movement that Wesker had trouble keeping up with. It was as if Leon was in front of the door one moment and in the next, had suddenly appeared in front of Wesker. Before Wesker could register how fast he got there, his back was slammed into the wall. Wesker tried to recover and counter back with a kick but Leon kept him bracketed in place with his own body; his arm laying over Wesker’s chest like a bar of steel, forcing the air out of his lungs. His free hand grabbed one of Wesker’s and pinned it against the wall. Wesker struggled in his hold and pointed his gun toward Leon’s head. He pulled the trigger.

Leon quickly jerked his head out of the way as the bullet rang through the apartment. He brought his head back forward and bashed it against Wesker’s. A pained grunt escaped Wesker’s lips and he momentarily blacked out as Leon threw him to the side. Wesker tumbled onto the living room carpet and struggled to get back on his feet. The gun had cluttered uselessly a couple feet away and he made a grab for it but then Leon quickly stepped on his hand and picked up the gun first.

Leon cocked the pistol toward Wesker’s head and a resounding click cut the silence between them. Wesker tensed and his body remained completely motionless aside from his harsh panting.

“Who are you?” came Leon’s voice, a bit husky and heavy from the fight. “What are you doing in my apartment?”

Wesker’s inhalations faltered at that.

 _This is Chris’s apartment,_ Wesker wanted to correct him. But he didn’t, instead he remained mutely still. He was confused with the whole situation. He didn’t know why this man was here instead of Chris. Where the hell was Chris?

Before he could further speculate, Leon moved forward and planted a boot on his back, pressing down firmly to slam Wesker on the floor. Every muscle and bone throbbed in protest and it felt as though the aftermath of the fight was just now taking a toll on his body. A cry of pain slipped past his lips; weak and faint as if his own voice tapered in defeat. He was embarrassed by it himself. Never in his life full of preeminence and brilliance did he think he’d go out with a whimper.

But at the sound of it Leon eased off and even stepped away. There was a hint of concern in his expression but he didn’t lower his gun. He studied Wesker for a few moments, his eyes traveling over his body. Wesker suspected he had noticed the blood seeping through his clothes. The tyrant didn’t see it himself, but he could feel where his shirt was damp and how the pain in his back was worse than before. He also caught sight of patches of blood decorating the floors of the apartment and no doubt Leon had too.

Leon suddenly crouched low and leaned toward him. Wesker automatically stiffened, feeling the pain intensify as his muscles locked up. He felt a hand on his back, steady and strong, making sure he wasn’t going to make any sudden moves. Wesker was resisting the urge to knock Leon away but he knew if he tried to fight any further, he would only end up hurting himself more.

The hand on his back brushed under the hem of his jacket and shirt, rising it up slightly to reveal his blotched colored skin that still wasn’t completely healed from the burns and the raw scars from his fight with the lion in Africa. He could feel his wounds openly bleeding and the exposure to the cold air had him shivering.

“Shit.” Leon breathed, standing up and moving away. The skepticism in his tone disclosed he knew that Wesker’s wounds didn’t come from their recent scuffle. “I’m calling an ambulance,” were his next words, but they seemed more directed to himself then to Wesker. Wesker heard them nonetheless and his head shot up at the mention of an ambulance.

He couldn’t let himself get taken to a hospital. Chances are it wouldn’t be long before someone identified him and soon after that the world would know where he was. The BSAA would want to get their hands on him along with a number of other companies that would no doubt use him as a means to an end. For research or otherwise leverage in whatever political gains they could get by using his body. He personally knew a number of people who wanted to kill him but there were even more who wanted to do worse than that. If he was declared _alive_ it would no doubt be the end of his life.

“ _Wait_!”

Leon froze and so did Wesker. He surprised himself with the outburst. His voice sounded nothing like he remembered it. It was dry and ragged, barely surfacing over a whisper. He reminded himself that it had been nearly eight months since he’s said a word and just as long since he had a drink of water. So, perhaps he shouldn’t be too surprised that he sounded so pathetic.

Leon turned toward him and Wesker felt his throat tighten up on the spot. He had to do something quick. He had to say something, anything…

“Don’t take me to a hospital, _please_ …” His voice was still strained and he was irritated with himself to hear a tremor in his own words. Even more so that he was begging. He didn’t recall ever begging for something in his entire life. But he knew if he wasn’t willing to do anything it took to get himself out of this, it would be the end.

“I…I thought you were someone else.” Wesker managed to huff, the air in his lungs felt small and he gasped, struggling to get more into them. “…I was looking for someone.” That wasn’t a lie. Which was probably why the words flowed a little easier. “…someone who tried to kill me. I was going to… I guess it doesn’t matter. It’s obvious this was the wrong place to look…”  Wesker finished, hoping against all odds that Leon would be satisfied enough.

“How did you get this address? Who gave it to you?” questioned Leon, his gun was still aimed in Wesker’s direction.

“…it doesn’t matter… It was the wrong information.” Wesker said, looking paler by the second. Leon was silent for a minute which seemed like an hour but he finally made a noncommittal sound, as if letting it slide for now. Wesker took that as a step forward in the right direction.

“If I’m taken to a hospital, they’ll find me there.” Wesker uttered, his voice sounded fainter and he knew he needed to get out of here soon if he didn’t want to leave his fate in the hands of some stranger. “I’ll leave… just don’t tell anyone I was here… _please._ ” He was begging again and he was disgusted that he had to reduce himself to this. But he was out of options and out of ideas.

Leon lowered his gun and once again crouched down at his side. The harsh lines in his expression had smoothed out into something calmer. And when he spoke his voice had lowered sympathetically.

“Alright, take it easy...” he consoled, probably to quell Wesker’s nerves. “I’m not going to hurt you as long as you don’t do anything stupid.”

A wave of relief washed over Wesker and he let out a liberated breath of air. He was beginning to think that lady luck was finally looking out for him. But then the world started spinning and his vision became distorted.

 _What the fuck is happening?_ A panicked thought whisked though his mind before he realized that his body couldn’t move. It was shutting down. And at the worst possible time.

 _No. NO. NO!_ the desperate voice in his head was shouting at him to run. But he couldn’t run. Let alone stay conscious.

Everything went black.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////// 

Birds were chirping and somewhere in the background there was a faint clattering of dishes. Wesker awoke before the rest of his body did. His limbs and eyelids felt heavy and stiff. It was all he could do to even twitch a finger. His senses were slowly coming back to him. There was another noise that droned faintly in his ear. A monotone voice that followed a script of words about the daily grind.

 _A TV_. The news was on.

A warm scent hit Wesker’s nose and had his dry mouth instantly salivating. It smelled buttery and peppery but there was also a tinge of fruit in the mix. A nearby _thud_ had his lethargic body jolting in alarm. His baser instincts helping him to open his eyes and assess the possible threat close by. His vision was a blur of colors and he had to blink a few times to finally get a clear picture of what was in front of him.

He was on a couch. A very comfortable couch with a heap of blankets and pillows. There was a TV hanging on the wall in front of him broadcasting the local weather report. A coffee table sat between him and the television and on that coffee table was a plate of food along with a glass of orange juice. Steam was rising up from the scrambled eggs and buttermilk biscuits.

At first Wesker wasn’t sure what to make of this. He couldn’t remember where he was or how he got here. Was this some sort of weird dream?

“It’s gonna get cold.” said voice to his right. Wesker shifted his eyes and saw the man from last night reclining in a chair next to the couch.

Suddenly, a gust of images whorled through his brain as he quickly remembered every detail of what happened from the day prior.

“You-” Wesker began, his voice collapsing like dust.

Leon got up and walked out of the room, almost as if he couldn’t be bothered to listen to the whispers of a dying man. But then he was back a minute later with a tall glass of water. He set it on the table beside the orange juice.

“Here. You’re probably dehydrated.”

Wesker scrutinized it, unsure if he should readily drink something from a stranger. Leon must have sensed his inner qualms. Because he slowly sat down on the coffee table.

“Look,” began Leon, his tone calm and… almost conciliating in a way. Like he was approaching a wounded animal. “I thought about what you said last night and… I just wanted to let you know that I didn’t call an ambulance. You seemed like you were genuinely scared of someone finding you…”

Any other time Wesker would have killed a man for calling him scared. But he wasn’t going to deny what Leon said. Part of him _was_ scared. Scared of being captured. Of dying again. But what he was really scared of, was never being able to exact his revenge on Chris Redfield.

Leon scratched the back of his neck and tilted his head, looking like he was mulling over what to say.

“I don’t know what’s going on, or why someone tried to kill you but…” and Leon looked at him candidly. “…you can stay here. If you want.” He offered, albeit reluctantly. “Just until you get better.”

Wesker didn’t know how to process those words. Was he even being sincere?

“Why?” Wesker croaked. Leon cringed at the sound of it. He picked up the glass of water and held it out to him.

“Will you please drink some water already? Your voice is making my ears bleed.” Leon muttered. Wesker glowered but reached out to take the drink, only to have the weight of the glass slip out of his feeble fingers.

“Shit.” Leon cursed, snatching it up before it could hit the floor. Only a few drops sloshed out. Impressive reflexes. He sighed. “You really are in bad shape, aren’t you?” he queried, though it was obvious he didn’t expect to get an answer. He knelt on the floor, drawing closer to Wesker.

“Here.” said Leon, lifting the glass up in assistance. Wesker didn’t make a move. He’s never had anyone do this before and he was still doubtful if he could even trust this guy. Leon rolled his eyes at Wesker’ cynical expression. “ _Why_ , you asked. Well, maybe it’s because I know what it’s like to be stuck between a rock and a hard place with people trying to kill you.” spoke Leon, his voice reminiscence from prior experience. “Now, are you going to let all this stuff I served you go to waste? Or are you going to show your gratitude?”

Wesker’s jaw twitched at his condescending tone. _Nobody_ gave him attitude like that. But it wasn’t like there was much he could do about it. He was practically on his death bed and it would be foolish to provoke the only person offering to help him. He parted his lips and Leon titled the glass against his mouth. A rush of cold water ran down his throat and the shock of it instantly had him coughing. Leon leaned away but that didn’t save him from getting wet.

“ _Fuck_ …” Leon muttered to himself, using his sleeve as a towel. “Don’t tell me you have anything contagious.”

Wesker didn’t respond to that. And again, he doubted the other man expected him to. Leon put the glass aside. He picked up the plate of food and sat it on the edge of the sofa.

“Are you going to need help with this too? Or can you manage?”

Wesker scowled at the implication that he was helpless. He was stubbornly gazing down before he even realized it.

“Geez, what the fuck is your problem? I’m trying to help you here.” stated Leon, sounding perplexed with his behavior. But Wesker’s attention was drawn to something else. As he looked down his eyes caught sight of the clothes he was wearing. His hand moved up to tug at his shirt. These weren’t the military fatigues he had on last night. And he was now aware of the compressing feeling that was tight against his wounds. _Bandages_?

What the fuck.

He heard a snort of amusement beside him and he glanced at Leon.

“You’re reacting as if I cut you open and dissected you.” muttered Leon.

“…did you?” and he sounded so grave that Leon outrightly laughed this time.

“Paranoid much? And the answer is no. I’m a cop. Not a scientist.”

Wesker’s eyes slightly widened at that. _A cop?_

Leon considered him for a moment, probably spotting the panic that flited through his gaze.

“Well, I _was_ a cop. What I do now is more off the record.” Leon explained.

Fucking hell. He was probably some sort of secret agent. Just what Wesker needed.

“By the way, I’m Leon.” Leon finally introduced himself, but he didn’t hold out his hand. He must have known Wesker still had aversions to this whole situation. “Do you mind giving me your name?”

 _Leon._ Why did that name sound oddly familiar? Wesker could hardly pay it much thought as he deliberated on Leon’s question. Giving him his real name was just asking for trouble. He’d have to settle for a fake name until he could get back on his feet. And once he _was_ back on his feet, then the world would once again tremble in fear at the mere mention of Albert Wesker.

“Al…ford….” Wesker struggled to come up with a name on the spot. He wanted to shoot himself for sounding indecisive.

“Alford?” drawled Leon curiously, rolling the name on his tongue. “Sounds strangely British.” and he gave Wesker a regarding look. “You kind of sound British too.”

“I’m not British.”

Leon chuckled.

“Whatever you say, cowboy.”

Wesker frowned but Leon didn’t see it, as he was already standing up and leaving the room.

“I have to go to work. Feel free to make yourself at home. Just don’t fuck anything up.”

How dare he talk to Wesker as if he was a child. It made Wesker want to throw the plate of food at the back of his head. Wesker was _not_ a child. He was a menacing force to be reckoned with. A powerfully evolved immortal to the pathetic excuse of mankind. A god-

The sound of the front door clicking shut snapped him out of his ruminating, leaving nothing but the hum of the TV to keep him company.

He was surprised that Leon actually left him to his own devices. That man was far to trusting to be trustworthy and Wesker wouldn’t do well to let his guard down around the likes of him. He needed to get out of here. But first, he needed to get his strength back. Which meant eating this plate of food that Leon left behind.

Wesker reached for the fork, but upon doing so his entire right arm seized up from a pulled muscle.

“ _Fuck._ ” Wesker groaned. All he did was lift his arm, and he couldn’t even do that properly. It was in that moment he realized why Leon so casually left him alone. It wasn’t that Leon _trusted_ Wesker.

Wesker just wasn’t a threat.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Wesker gave up on eating after the first few attempted bites. Most of the food had ended up on the floor instead of his mouth. He was scowling, stomach growling but he didn’t want to waste any more energy by making more of a mess. He trained his eyes on the TV, a cooking channel had now come on and Wesker’s stomach growled even more at the sight of all that delicious glistening food. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, trying not to think about how hungry he was. He could still hear the food sizzling as it cooked on the show. He could still smell his breakfast teasing his nose. He wished he had the remote in his hand so he could at least turn the television off. At this point it was just tormenting him.

Wesker buried his face in his pillow.

This was a new kind of hell.

Thankfully he managed to doze off after a while with nothing but dreams of steak and roast beef to sustain his hunger. He wasn’t sure how long he was asleep but when he woke up, it was to the sound of a door opening and closing. Mr. Cavalier was back and it looked like he had more food with him.

Leon placed the food on the coffee table and stared at the barely touched breakfast.

“Doesn’t look like you made much of an effort.” Leon remarked. Wesker would’ve been angry at the comment, but he hurt too much to care. Leon read into the tyrant’s silence and his tone lost its ridicule.

“Sorry.” Leon apologized, leaning down to clean up Wesker’s earlier mess. “I probably shouldn’t have left you like that.”

“…it’s fine.” Wesker managed to mutter. It wasn’t like it was Leon’s job to take care of him anyway. The other man disappeared out of the room with the old plate of food, and Wesker thought he was left to fend for himself yet again, but then Leon soon returned.

He leaned back down and slid an arm under Wesker’s neck. Wesker went rigid and the flinch didn’t escape Leon’s attention.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

 _As if you could,_ Wesker wanted to retaliate but he sensed the lie in his own thoughts. He wasn’t the power house he used to be. So in reality… Leon really could hurt him if he wanted to. But the other man did no such thing. He moved Wesker into more of a sitting position.

“You’re probably not going to like this…” Leon spoke, his voice deeply soothing to Wesker’s ears. Perhaps it was because of the close proximity but Wesker felt something shock his cold lifeless heart with sparks of electricity.

“Just don’t cough it back in my face.” Leon continued, grimacing at the memory.

“What are you doing?” questioned Wesker, undecided between pushing him away or continuing to lean against him for support. Leon pulled the food he bought today closer towards them.

 _Oh…_ Realization dawned on Wesker. He convinced himself that he couldn’t possibly sink any lower then the pit of a volcano. So being hand fed was the last thing that could shred his dignity. Not that he had much of one anymore.

Whatever Leon bought, it was some sort of herbal rice and vegetable stir fry. The smell of it was almost intoxicatingly delectable. But after the first few bites, Wesker’s stomach began to churn. He elbowed Leon but he doubted it even fazed him.

“What’s wrong?” Leon asked. Wesker swallowed what remained in his mouth before doubling over.

“I’m going to be sick…”

“ _Shit_.” Leon cursed. He hauled him to his feet and pretty much had to drag him all the way down the hallway to the bathroom. Wesker barely made it to the toilet before he emptied what little there was in his stomach. He felt a hand rubbing his back before stopping to exam the hem of his shirt. “Fuck. I think you’re bleeding again.” announced Leon.

Wesker dry heaved. Fuck it. Just let him die already. If he couldn’t even consume food then how was he ever going to kill Chris?

“Come on, man. Try to relax.” Leon comforted, helping him get his breathing back under control.

“Fuck you…” Wesker huffed, spitting out a clot of bile.

“Keep talking. It’ll help even your breathing.” encouraged Leon.

Wesker was really starting to hate this guy.

//////////////////////////////////////////////

He leaned against the edge of the tub as it filled with warm water. The sound of the bathroom door gently creaked open as Leon walked back in with a handful of towels.

“You know, maybe later you could try eating again.” suggested Leon. Which was rational advice to let his stomach calm down first. Wesker’s skin blanched at the thought of eating again. It felt like he got kicked in the guts after throwing up and he wasn’t exactly eager to repeat the incident.

“No.” he out right refused.

“At least try some soup. It’ll be easier for you to digest.” Leon advised. “You want to get better. Don’t you?”

Was Leon his fucking mom now? Wesker fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“Fine…”

Leon leaned over and turned off the tap.

“Do you need help getting in there?”

Well, he needed help with every little thing so far. Wesker didn’t try to hide the fact anymore. But that didn’t mean it was any easier to just accept it. He looked away from Leon before giving a stiff nod.

“I suppose you did this last night…” Wesker was saying, as Leon knelt down at his side to help him out of his clothes.

“All I did was bandage your wounds.” Leon clarified, the movement of his fingers was meticulously impersonal. “You’ve smelt like shit since you got here.”

Wesker’s eye twitched but he didn’t bother contradicting him. It was probably true. Leon got the shirt off him then soon came his pants and then his bandages. Wesker wasn’t modestly shy by any means, so he wasn’t exactly uncomfortable to be naked in front of someone. After all, he knew he was the prime example of what a god should look like.

But when Leon helped him up to guide him into the water, Wesker caught sight of himself in the mirror above the sink for the first time in eight months. His breath lodged in his throat and for a second he wasn’t sure if that was actually a mirror, or just some incongruous trick of the light. Because _fuck_. He didn’t even recognize that person staring back at him.

He looked like a starved ghost of a man suffering from anemia. He looked… so weak and frail. It was no wonder Leon took pity on him and offered to let him stay. Wesker quickly turned his head away. It was almost too painful to look at.

“I didn’t realize…” Wesker was muttering to himself. Leon paused and glanced at him. “…how bad it was.”

Leon’s eyes shifted towards the mirror before settling back on Wesker.

“What? Your reflection?” inquired Leon, trying to piece the puzzle pieces together. “…how long has it been since you looked at yourself?”

“…eight months.”

“ _Eight months_?” Leon said in disbelief. “What were you? A prisoner of war?”

Wesker was silent and Leon shook his head.

“Never mind. You don’t have to answer that.” he said, probably just realizing how insensitive that was. He stopped talking as he helped Wesker into the bathtub. Wesker hissed as the warm water touched his raw wounds. It took him a while to settle into it and relax his body. Something splashed into the water by his legs and he stared over at Leon who was pouring some sort of powder out of a bag.

“What is that?” Wesker question, looking apprehensive.

“They’re espean salts.”

“Don’t put those in!” Wesker quickly rejected. He didn’t want to think about what salt would do to his open injuries.

“Well, I doubt scrubbing your skin is going to feel any better. Besides, this will clean out your wounds and have you smelling like lavender.”

Wesker wanted to punch him.

But instead, he was inclined to agree and he sank lower in the tub. This way, he didn’t have to forfeit the energy in washing himself. He could just let the salts do all the work. Even so, he was already starting to feel the itching burn on his cuts and he knew it was only bound to get worse.

“How long do I have to stay in here?” asked Wesker bleakly.

“Until it doesn’t hurt anymore.” Leon replied. Wesker doubted he even read the directions but he was too tired to call him out on it. Leon set the bag aside and turned around to lean his back against the porcelain edge.

“In the meantime, I can keep you company if you want.” he offered. “… and make sure you don’t drown.” He added in a mumble. Wesker gritted his teeth.

“I’m not that helpless.” He snapped. Leon gave him a look.

“Says the guy who can’t feed himself.” Leon countered. Wesker narrowed his eyes but couldn’t really argue there.

“…why are you helping me?” questioned Wesker after a few moments of silence.

“I thought I told you. I know what it’s like…”

“-to be stuck between a rock and a hard place. Yeah, you did.” Wesker impatiently finished for him. “…is that the only reason? Or was it also because you felt sorry for me?”

He saw Leon roll his shoulders in a careless shrug.

“Yeah. Pretty much.”

Well, Wesker had to commend him for his brutal honesty.

“I broke into your apartment and pointed a gun at you…” Wesker began.

“You didn’t kill me.” Leon pointed out. Before pausing to add, “You had that chance right when I opened the door.”

Wesker gave him an analyzing stare.

“Even so, you seem pretty tolerant when it comes to threats against your life. Do people point guns at you often?”

Leon chuckled.

“More than you think.”

 _Definitely a secret agent_ , Wesker concluded in his head.

“And what about you?” Leon turned the subject on him. “Do you usually find yourself in near death experiences?”

Now that Wesker thought about it… yes. He did. How many times has he ‘died’ and come back to life? Would this make it the third?

“Yes.” was Wesker’s answer to Leon’s question.

Leon raised his eyebrow.

“Do I even want to know what you do for a living?” he joked, trying to lighten Wesker’s mood. But Wesker felt a hamstring tug at his chest.

 _No,_ he wanted to say. _Because if I told you, you’d probably try to kill me._

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Later that evening Wesker was back on the couch in fresh new clothes and bandages. He didn’t know what time it was but the crescent moon was shining through the window and Leon had retired to his bedroom about an hour ago. He shifted, trying to find a comfortable position and winced when the movement irritated his wounds. He focused on his breathing to help him relax, slipping his eyes closed and seeking out sleep. But images of Leon popping up in his head was making that nearly impossible.

The other man had been so careful when he helped rewrap the bandages around Wesker’s wounds. His touch gentle. His voice soothing. The memories of his caring attentions was all Wesker could think about. He only wished that those memories were tangible enough to grasp in his hand. So that he could crush them in his fist and throw them against the wall.

There was only room in his head for vengeance. And he wasn’t about to let some suave secret agent take up unnecessary space.

A noise broke the silence in the background. Wesker’s ears strained at the sound of the toilet flushing and a door snapping shut, before footsteps drifted down the hallway and into the living room. Wesker was still, even his breathing had stilled. He was getting the impression that Leon was surveying his surroundings, as if he didn’t completely trust Wesker’s helpless appearance despite all that earlier bravado. But Wesker’s impressions of him were continually proven wrong as Leon cleared his throat and broke the silence in the room.

“You ok?” the agent asked. How did he know that Wesker wasn’t asleep?

“I’m awake.” Wesker responded instead, trying to be impertinent. He heard Leon’s footsteps draw closer until they stopped beside the couch. A shift of fabric brushed off Wesker’s head as Leon pulled the blanket away.

“You’re shivering.”

Wesker hadn’t even realized that he was until Leon brought it up, but he was indeed shaking despite being buried under the blanket and a couple pillows.

“I’ve got the heat on.” stated Leon, as if Wesker was just being unreasonably cold at will. He rose his hand and Wesker would have smacked it away if he wasn’t trembling so bad. Fingertips brushed across his forehead in a barely-there-touch. “You’re like ice.”

“Get away from me.” Wesker grumbled, but it didn’t have the typical bite of a threat. Which was probably why Leon didn’t take it seriously. He grasped Wesker’s hand and pulled him up.

“Come on.” Leon urged, guiding Wesker’s arm around his shoulders. Wesker tried to pull away but Leon was stronger then he was. So instead, Wesker made his body go limp. Forcing Leon to carry all his weight down the hall. Which probably wasn’t much of a challenge for that athletic body of his.

“Stubborn. Aren’t you?” Leon remarked at Wesker’s annoyed glare.

“Where are we going?” Wesker demanded. He didn’t have to wait long for an answer. They entered Leon’s room and the agent carefully laid him down on the bed.

“Should I be worried about where this is escalating?” Wesker asked reticently. Leon chuckled, moving onto the bed beside him and drawing the covers up.

“Don’t get excited.” quipped Leon. He scooted closer and laid a warm arm around Wesker’s waist. “I’m only offering my body heat tonight.”

He sounded so smug with himself. Like he was some sort of world-class savior. The fucking bastard. Wesker wanted to slap that stupid smirk right off his face. But despite the growing amount of detestation he held for the other man, he couldn’t stop himself from instinctively shifting closer to him, eager to soak up the free warmth that was being provided. Wesker hated himself for it. But it _did_ feel quite nice. Even his shivers were starting to cease.

 _This is just temporary…_ Wesker inwardly groused, keeping himself emotionally detached as he pressed closer to the living furnace. _After I get better and Leon is no longer useful, I’ll snap his fucking neck._

_And Chris’s neck will be next._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Wesker, why can't you just listen to your heart? xD


	3. November 15th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the lovely comments and kudos! They've really warmed my heart <3 and made me smile =)

“When I awoke, hatred became my master.” – Albert Wesker.

 

          Over the next two weeks Wesker did nothing but sleep like a bear in hibernation. With his body still recovering, he didn’t have the energy to do much else. Meanwhile, he and Leon steadily fell into some form of a domesticated routine. Leon would cook him breakfast, usually porridge so it was easier for him to digest, and leave it on the bedside table because Wesker was more often than not still asleep when the agent got ready to go to work, or wherever the hell he went during the day. Wesker would eventually wake up; attempt to eat his breakfast before giving up and going back to sleep. Leon would come back home with a bowl of soup and help Wesker eat that before running a bath for him and changing his bandages. Then they’d fall asleep in the same bed, with Leon close enough to share that welcoming body heat to keep Wesker’s shivers at bay during the night. And at the start of the next morning they’d do it all over again.

          If he was peering in from a third person perspective, Wesker might have retched and shouted what the hell did he think he was doing. But in the current state he was in, the cold blooded tyrant was just too exhausted to give a shit. The only thing he really cared about right now was sleep…and killing Chris. Those two desires went hand in hand for him. Especially since his dreams were filled with nothing but the images of blood and raspy screams. Soon those dreams would be made into reality. And to ensure that it did, he ate that food in front of him, he clung to that living furnace, and he pretended that he was still his independent and capable self even though it was Leon who was there every step of the way.

Leon’s presence didn’t bother him nearly as much as it should have and Wesker’s growing tolerance of the inferior human was alarming enough to signal warning bells in his head.  Trusting anyone never came easy to Wesker but with Leon, everything seemed easy. Everything seemed…right. And laidback. And _warm_. He’s never felt so comfortably warm before.

He told himself it was only Leon’s body heat that made him feel that way. But this particular warmth somehow touched more than the surface of his skin. He didn’t even reprimand himself for wanting to selfishly cling to it. Because when has there ever been something there for him to cling onto?

“Hey,” Leon’s voice ringed in his ears. “Wake up.”

Wesker was jostled out of his slumber and shit, he’s been sleeping so much that he didn’t even know the day or time. The room was dark and so were the windows. Wesker puzzled over Leon’s actions to wake him up when it wasn’t even morning.

“…what?” was Wesker’s drowsy demand.

“You were having a nightmare.”

Wesker blinked in confusion before rubbing his eyes.

“I don’t recall…” he muttered. “…stupid thing to wake me up for.” He added ungraciously. Leon frowned.

“I woke you up because you were thrashing around and I didn’t want you to reopen your wounds.” Leon deadpanned. “You’re welcome by the way.”

“hm… right. Sorry…thanks…” Wesker drabbled still half asleep. He was already dozing off before he could hear Leon start complaining again. Not that he was ever interested in what the other man had to say.

But apparently that wouldn’t be his only nightly episode.

A couple days passed without incident before it happened again. And this time, Wesker fully remembered every detail.

He had a dream where he was back at the mansion he’d found Spencer in. Back in the room where the man himself was sitting in his wheelchair and gazing outside at the continuous rain. Wesker began walking up to that decrepit husk of a so-called _god_. He was expecting to hear Spencer’s raving speech echoing in his ears but the air was disturbingly silent. Wesker rounded the silhouetted form, prepared to see that withered face he’s come to despise so much… only to see himself instead. It was another Wesker who was sitting in that wheelchair. A bowed and hollowed exoskeleton of an undying man. An undying _failure_.

_I’m just a failure._

The air was stuck in his lungs. It felt like the walls of the room were starting to press forward from all sides with the ceiling bearing down on him at the same time.

“ _Wake up_!”

Wesker felt himself get shaken by the shoulders. He startled awake, chest heaving frantically as he panted. Leon was above him with a marginally worried look on his face.

“You were having another nightmare.” Leon informed.

 _How embarrassing…_ Wesker carped at himself. He turned away, wanting to ignore Leon’s keen gaze. But it seemed his actions were speaking a language that Leon understood all too well.

“You remembered your dream this time?” Leon gathered. “…what was it about?”

 _Just leave me alone…_ Wesker wanted to grumble, but he didn’t have the strength to get angry anymore. Leon was silent for a while, almost like he was giving Wesker a chance to answer, though Wesker wasn’t going to.

“Was it about what happened to you?” Leon finally asked, breaking the silence. His voice was curious yet strangely calming in a way. “…when you first got here…when I first _saw_ you…” spoke Leon carefully. Except for the next coming words, “You were pretty fucked up.”

That was like a knife to his ego but Wesker could at least appreciate his concern.

“I guess it wouldn’t be surprising if you were getting nightmares from it.”

“That’s not what I dreamed about!” Wesker suddenly snapped. Because fuck this shit if Chris Redfield was the one responsible for giving him nightmares. He was NOT afraid of that asshole. He was going to kill him. He was going to fucking _gut_ him.

Leon stiffened at his tone but didn’t pull back. The agent probably deluded himself into thinking he was making progress.

“No need to bite my head off.” Leon murmured.

“Whatever…” Wesker hissed, hogging all the blankets in the process. “Will you please leave me alone now?”

“Alright, alright.” Leon conceded, seeming to let the subject go. “But listen… if you ever need to talk… I’m right here if you need me.” said Leon thoughtfully.

“I don’t need anyone…” Wesker uttered, closing his eyes and waiting to fall asleep again. But then his skin started to prickle from the persistent chill that seemed to be embedded in his bones. He shivered and a moment later Leon’s arms came around him. The heat of his body washed over the tyrant’s cold form and it didn’t take long for those shivers to fade away.

 

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

 It was hard not to accept a supporting hand when he faltered or welcome an encouraging word when he needed one. But Wesker couldn’t afford to lose sight of his goal. This whole… _situation_ … was just a means to an end. And as if to convince himself of that fact, he made an effort in criticizing Leon’s aid rather than being grateful for it. Besides, the very notion that anyone in this world could be so forthcoming and good-natured was idiotic.

It was sickening.

Wesker mulled over his disgust as he ate the oatmeal Leon made for him this morning. He had gotten better at feeding himself as the weeks passed, and now he was even able to sit up at the kitchen table and eat without too much grief.

 _It won’t be long now…_ Wesker told himself. He could feel his body getting stronger with each passing day. Even his sleep schedule was starting to lighten up a bit. He expected it would revert back to normal soon. He only hoped the same could be said for his strength.

Wesker took another bite of his oatmeal but kept the spoon in his mouth as he swallowed. Then he clamped down on it. His teeth met resistance as he tried to bend the metal.

And he growled in frustration when he failed.

He took the spoon out of his mouth and scowled. It was covered in bitemarks but was still in its perfect shape. A flare of anger roared in his chest. He wouldn’t let a spoon of all things get the best of him. He should be able to bend it. Even without superhuman strength.

 

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

Leon was washing the dishes later on in the evening after getting home and taking care of his ‘guest’. Said guest was probably somewhere in the living room sleeping again. He’s never seen anyone sleep as much as that guy, but he supposed it was only natural considering the trauma he probably went through. Leon sank his hand deeper into the soapy water, pulling up a spoon to scrub clean.

Only to discover that it was awkwardly bent by the handle. Leon’s brows creased in puzzlement, but didn’t think too much of it. Maybe it just got dropped and stepped on or something. He reached into the sink again, pulling up a fork this time and also finding it grotesquely misshapen.

“What the fuck?” Leon muttered, inspecting it closely and finding bite marks all over it.

The fuck happened to his silverware?

 

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

Leon’s silverware hadn’t been the only victim of assault. A week later the agent had gone out to do some errands for the upcoming holidays, giving Wesker the discretion to secretly plot his takeover. The tyrant was in the middle of pacing around, designing one such intricate scheme, when he wandered into the kitchen and caught a glimpse of the gift baskets sitting on the countertop. People had been leaving more and more of those on Leon’s welcome mat the closer Christmas got. Though, how anyone could get hyped up about Christmas in mid November was beyond Wesker. Not that he ever understood the significance of gift giving in the first place. It was just another human habit that would forever be beneath him.

But this morning a new bundle had been added to the stack. There was a stuffed bear wearing a police uniform with a badge that read: Deputy Cuddles. Wesker stalked over and snatched it up, spotting the gift tag that dangled from its ear. He opened it and read the cursive lettering.

 

**Here’s your very own bear from your bestest friend Claire!**

**I hope he keeps you warm at night ;)**

**Love, Claire Redfield.**

 

Deputy Cuddles trembled in Wesker’s hands.

 _Claire Redfield? As in, Chris Redfield’s sister?_ The very thought of Chris instantly had his blood boiling. Not being able to initially find the man was bad enough but now it was almost like his stupid little sister was mocking him for it. She had the audacity to send a bear to Leon so he wouldn’t get cold at night?

_News flash, bitch. Living furnaces don’t get cold._

It might as well have been Chris that was snagged in his hands for how much the very sight of this stuffed animal angered him. It stood for everything that Wesker hated and he couldn’t stop himself from projecting what he wanted to do to the other man once he got his hands on him. A murderous gleam appeared in his eyes.

“I’m going to turn you inside out.” he snarled.

 

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

The reflection of Leon’s disapproval in the elevator doors was making Wesker shift uncomfortably. Mr. Cavalier didn’t appear to be in his usual tolerant mood.

“You seem upset.” Wesker observed, normally he wouldn’t make an effort at small talk but Leon’s silence was practically killing him. Leon closed his eyes, a lone vein began to pound on his temple.

“I’m not upset.” came Leon’s terse response. “I’m annoyed.”

“…did I take it too far?” Wesker gathered. Leon opened his eyes and glared at him.

“Gee, you think? My silverware was one thing, but Deputy Cuddles? That was uncalled for.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Wesker deflected offhandedly.

“Dramatic? _I’m_ being dramatic? You’re the one that slit him open and tore out his stuffing like a rapid animal. For fuck’s sake, it was a damn murder scene when I walked into the kitchen. You didn’t even bother to hide the evidence!” Leon snapped. “All you do is eat all my food and destroy all my shit when you’re not sleeping all day. You might as well be a fucking cat.”

“Where are we going?” Wesker cut in, already bored with Leon’s rant. He might’ve been worried that Leon was going to kick him out but the elevator was headed upwards instead of downwards. He felt dumb for not realizing that this apartment complex had an elevator.

“We’re going to the rooftop.” answered Leon stiffly.

“Why?”

“No. You don’t get to ask questions. You lost that right when you started acting feral.”

Wesker frowned, but didn’t argue because it would probably only make Leon angrier.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Leon practically dragged him out by the arm and across the open gable.

“Is this the part where you throw me off the building?” Wesker asked apathetically. Because that would be a boring way to die; compared to the many ways he’s died so far.

“Don’t tempt me.” Leon warned. There was a small garden up here along with some outdoor furniture. It might have been a scenic ambiance if it wasn’t for Leon’s dour mood. They stopped by the glass railings and Leon let him go. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as if the open sky was enough to lift the stress right off his shoulders.

“Okay… Look,” exhaled Leon, staring back at him. “I thought maybe you could use some fresh air since you’ve been cooped up in my apartment for so long.” He crossed his arms and trained his gaze on the cityscape. “You’ve been getting better… but the last thing I need is you getting cabin fever. So if you ever want to stretch out your claws or chase fucking mice, you can come up here.”

A dark cloud was forming over Wesker’s head.

“I’m not your cat.”

Leon turned away from him, already walking back towards the elevator doors.

“I’ll let you in through the window when it’s chow time.”

“I’m not your fucking cat!”

 

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

 

          Leon giving him access to the rooftop was actually… quite thoughtful. Sure, it was probably just to spare the rest of his personal belongings from Wesker’s wrath, but it was a nice sentiment nonetheless. The rooftop was liberating in its own right. None of the other residents of the complex seemed to frequent it, probably because of the changing weather, but that was a good thing for Wesker. He’d rather not have anyone around while he tested the limits of his strength.

The first goal he set for himself, was reaching the building next over. When he was at his physical peek, he had no trouble jumping over bridges or across canals. So jumping from rooftop to rooftop should be a piece of cake. He walked to the other end of the building and focused on keeping his breathing relaxed and even. It had been little over a month now since he started staying with Leon. His body had sufficiently healed. Perhaps not completely. There was still discolored bruises and red scabs that stubbornly hugged his skin, but he was well enough to get around without Leon’s help for the most part. Besides, if he didn’t start pushing his body to its threshold then it would only take that much longer for him to get his revenge on Chris.

“I’m coming for you Redfield.” Wesker growled as he turned around to face the opposing building. He took off in a sprint, pushing his feet to gain enough momentum for the jump. As he gained more ground and more speed he felt a strain in his legs that threatened to hold him back. Wesker clenched his teeth and ignored it, forcing himself to run faster. The edge of the rooftop grew closer with each stride. He felt his muscles coil beneath his skin, preparing to spring forward.

But at the last second, Wesker’s legs locked up. He nearly lost his balance as he skidded to the edge of the building halting only centimeters from falling. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest and all he could hear was his own harsh breaths wheezing through his ears. His gaze fixated on the sheer drop from here to the ground. And immediately the sight had his head spinning. He staggered backwards.

“Fuck.” he muttered to himself.

_I can’t do this._

 

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

 

It was raining the next day. Wesker was laying on the couch with his head facing the window so he could gloomily stare out at the weather. He could hear Leon moving around in the background, before the clank of a plate hitting the table and the smell of food threatened to pull his gaze away.

“You skipped breakfast and lunch. Are you gonna skip dinner too?” asked Leon.

“I’m not hungry.” Wesker muttered. He heard Leon plop on the chair next to the couch. If he listened close enough, he could probably even hear him rolling his eyes.

“What’s gotten into you? You seemed really motivated about going up onto the roof and now that it’s raining you’ve suddenly lost interest in life? I’m sure it’ll stop raining by tomorrow. It doesn’t mean you have to stop eating today.” said Leon frankly.

“That’s not why I’m upset.”

“So you’re upset?”

Wesker let out an irritated sigh and turned around so he was facing the cushions of the couch.

“Leave me alone.” He grumbled.

Leon was quiet for a few moments.

“Are you planning on sleeping here?” the agent asked.

“And what if I am?” Wesker retorted almost challengingly. “I can keep myself warm.” _So I don’t need you_. The meaning went without saying.

Another stretch of silence passed before Leon spoke up again.

“Whose going to wake you up if you have another nightmare?”

Wesker gritted his teeth but ignored him. And after a while, Leon finally got up to leave the room. But not even a minute later, he walked back in to toss a blanket on top of his moody guest.

“If you need anything, you know where to find me.” Leon's voice faded out of the room along with his footsteps.

Part of Wesker, a really tiny part… wanted to follow him.

 

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

 

          He was on the rooftop again. There was an overcast of grey clouds in the sky but it had stopped raining apart from the light drizzle that sprinkled on his clothes and hair. He walked to the opposite end of the building, steeling himself for another attempt at jumping across the narrow gap. It shouldn’t be this hard. He was sure even Leon could make the lunge. And Leon was a mere human. This should be nothing for someone that was as evolutionarily advanced as Wesker.

He turned back to his designated target then took off in a sprint. Pushing himself as fast he as he could. The edge of the building drew near and Wesker felt his muscles tense in preparation for the coming jump. He was just about to make the leap when the ground beneath his feet began to tremble and break apart. He looked down, eyes widening as the building he stood on was reduced to crumbling pieces of rubble. His instincts pushed his legs forward and he quickly sprang off the edge of the rooftop just as the rest of the structure caved in on itself. Wesker reached out in a desperate attempt to catch himself from falling and his hand snagged the ledge of the neighboring building.

He could have let out a sigh of relief except that when he looked up, two people were staring down at him.

It was Chris and Sheva.

His heart nearly stuttered to a halt. This couldn’t be happening. How did they find him? They each had an RPG in their hands and they didn’t even hesitate to point it right at his face.

_NO!_

He instantly let go, feeling his stomach drop faster then the rest of his body as he fell toward the pavement below. But one glance down revealed that it wasn’t pavement that waited to embrace him, it was lava.

“ _No!_ ”

“Wake up!” Leon’s voice was loud in his ears. Wesker felt himself get shaken roughly. He awoke, startled and gasping for air. Leon was sitting on the edge of the sofa right next to him. His appearance a more common sight these nights.

“Are you alright?” asked Leon softly. “You were having nightmares again.”

Wesker was still in the process of stabilizing his breath but it didn’t take his brain nearly as long to piece two and two together.

“…you came running?” Wesker whispered.

“Of course I did.” said Leon. Then gave him a chagrinned look. “Don’t let it go to your head. You would have woken up the whole damn building if I didn’t come running.”

Wesker didn’t say anything. Still in a hazy state of mind after that relapsing episode. He felt a hand against his cheek and he winced at the examining touch.

“You’re shaking.” Leon observed, his proximity so close that Wesker could feel his breath brushing against his face. “Though, I doubt it’s because you’re cold this time.”

Wesker instinctively rose his hands to Leon’s chest with the intent to push him away. But to his own frustration and dismay, his hands did the exact opposite. They fisted into Leon’s shirt and threatened to pull him closer. The agent looked slightly confused.

“Do you want me to stay?” asked Leon.

 _I want you to go away_. Wesker wanted to say, even though being alone was the last thing he needed at the moment.

When he didn’t answer, Leon pulled the covers back.

“Scoot over.”

Wesker balked at the command but instead of waiting for his permission Leon physically moved him aside until there was enough space to slip under the covers next to him. It was a tight fit with the both of them on one couch but it wasn’t as uncomfortable as Wesker thought it’d be. It was actually rather cozy. And Leon’s presence was unexpectedly comforting. It made him feel safe. Which was something he’s rarely felt before. He can’t remember if there was ever a time when someone cared enough to keep him company.

He can’t remember if there was ever a time when someone cared about him at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is starting to wonder when Wesker and Chris will reunite, I'll give you a hint:
> 
> It'll be on a holiday.


	4. November 23rd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so, so much for the awesome comments! You guys are amazing! ^_^ And also, for the kudos <3 I'm shocked that it's even got this many!

“And so I was reborn like a phoenix emerging from the flame. I no longer needed Umbrella. I had risen beyond the human race and cheated death itself, leaving nothing to oppose me.” – Albert Wesker.

 

          From now on, Wesker slept in Leon’s bed. He wasn’t exactly sure how to feel about the whole arrangement. On one hand, having Leon there to chase his nightmares away seemed pretty beneficial. On the other hand, the fact that he needed someone there to begin with was both irritating and degrading. His confliction about it was even keeping him up at night.

He was facing the wall on the far side of the bed. For once not having any physical contact with the sleeping agent. It was just another attempt to try and keep himself isolated from the present circumstances. Which was proving harder to do these days.

The bed shifted and the movement had Wesker’s nerves tingling. He stiffened and listened closely, wondering if the other man had woken up. Leon’s breathing hitched and grew irregular. Another shift on the bed caused Wesker to finally look over at him. The agent’s chest fluttered up and down as he panted. Small pores of sweat were stuck to his forehead though one droplet that was big enough trickled down to a creased eyebrow. His finger spastically twitched. His trigger finger. The rest of his hand was slightly curled inward, grasping something that Wesker couldn’t see.

It would appear he wasn’t the only one who had nightmares.

“Leon?” Wesker was uncertain on what to do. Any other time he might’ve let the poor bastard fight off his inner demons alone. But Leon had been there for him on more than one occasion when he needed help.

It was only out of obligation that he did the same.

“Leon!” Wesker called, going so far as to shake him this time.

Leon’s whole body tensed before he awakened with a gasp. He quickly sat up, blinking a few times to clear his vision before scanning the room for any possible threats. When he found none, he looked back at Wesker.

“Sorry.” Leon said, still a bit unsettled from whatever terror he had fought against. “I…it was a bad dream.”

 _No shit,_ Wesker wanted to say. But instead he surprised himself,

“Are you alright?”

Leon looked thrown off by that. Wesker supposed that really was an abnormal thing for him to say.

“…yeah. I’m fine.” Leon answered. He shook his head as if to set it straight before letting out a tired exhale and flopping back down on his pillow. “…it was just a dream.”

Wesker was quiet for a moment, wondering what to say next or if he should say anything at all. Against his better judgement, he went with the former.

“What was it about?”

Leon turned his head toward him. Wesker couldn’t exactly see any details in the dark but he was sure that Leon’s expression was growing into an amused grin. And his intuition was only proven from the patronizing sound of his voice.

“Is this curiosity I’m sensing from my cat?”

“I’m not your cat.” Wesker all but growled.

Leon chuckled. It astounded Wesker how anyone, even Mr. Cavalier, could seem so untroubled after a detrimental nightmare.

“It just warms my heart that you would even ask.”

“Then forget I asked.” Wesker muttered, turning away and scooting to the far side of the bed.

“Wait. Alright, I’ll tell you what it was about.” Leon finally let up on the mockery. Wesker turned his head toward him and Leon cleared his throat. His gaze fixated on the ceiling, actually looking serious for once.

“I dreamt about Spain. About a mission I had there.”

“A mission?” inquired Wesker, thinking that maybe he’d finally get some insight on Leon’s occupation.

“Yeah, I had a mission to save the president’s daughter. She got kidnaped by this insane cult who wanted to use her in their terrorist attack. I mean, I can’t get too into the details because really, it was just a bunch of crazy shit that happened and you probably wouldn’t even believe me if I told you. But my dream was about me being back there. Me risking my life trying to save this girl. Going up against batshit crazy people… including a former comrade… Honestly, the dream I just had was pretty mild compared to the real thing.” spoke Leon, his tone sounding haunted in an isolated way.

Wesker might’ve felt sorry for him, or even empathetic of what he went through but at the mention of Spain and Leon's horrific version of it, a plethora of images were instantly engulfing his head with his own memories of the backwater country. Memories of a prior engagement he had there. An engagement that involved a certain diabolical virus if he recalled correctly.

 _Spain… I remember a cult in Spain… A cult called_ _Los Iluminados…with a virus called_ _Las Plagas._ _And… Leon… Is it by mere chance that the events he spoke of are so similar to the ones I know? He talked about fighting a comrade there. He couldn’t mean… Jack Krauser?_ A man he once had under his employment. A man he had tasked with killing the agent who stood in his way of getting the Plaga sample.

It all suddenly added up and Wesker could’ve kicked himself for not seeing it sooner. For not _realizing_ it when he first heard Leon’s name.

_How is this possible?_

He felt his teeth clench. Felt rage trembling beneath his skin.

 **This** fucking asshole was the one that killed Jack Krauser and was the reason why Ada Wong fucking betrayed him in the end.

How the hell did he not find Chris but instead this guy?

It was almost too surreal to be a fucking coincidence. No. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Because now that Wesker thought about it, he remembered when he first saw Chris upon arriving at this address. Chris had been walking down the street with someone. He had been walking down the street with a tall blond haired…

_...Leon._

Why had he not realized that sooner? Why did he not commit the memory of Leon’s face in his head? Had he really been so distracted by his thoughts of revenge that he missed something so obvious? The very something that could’ve made the most sense out of this whole senseless situation? Leon had to be friends with Chris. They were both running in the same league weren’t they? And how else could Wesker mistake Chris’s address unless they opted to switch places somehow?

“Did you fall asleep?” asked Leon, bringing Wesker out of his blazing thoughts.

“…no.” Wesker managed out, after a moment of regaining his speech.

_I’m going to fucking kill you._

He wanted to do that now. The impulse to reach over and grip Leon’s throat just so he could crush the agent’s windpipe with his fingers was nearly too overwhelming to repress.

But his rationally got the better of him.

He couldn’t kill Leon now. Not only was he lacking his strength, he still needed to find Chris and if Wesker’s hunch about the two of them being friends was right, then he could use Leon as more then just a living furnace. He could make Leon lead him right to Redfield.

 _And then I’ll kill the both of you._ Wesker thought approvingly. Yes, that was a much better plan.

“You’re pretty quiet.” Leon noted. “More so then usual. It's almost weird...”

Wesker slammed his pillow over Leon’s face, secretly hoping he’d suffocate under it. But all he got for his efforts was a stifled chuckle.

“I was kidding!” Leon’s voice was still muffled.

“I hope you die…” Wesker muttered. Leon lifted the pillow off his face and turned his heard toward him.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Wesker disparaged, returning to his side of the bed. “I said, I hope the rest of your night is…peaceful.” he slowly enunciated.

It almost felt like the word _peaceful_ didn’t belong on his tongue.

“Thanks.” said Leon, sounding appreciative nonetheless. “Not just for that. But for listening to me.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Leon feigned a hurt sound.

“I’m wounded, Alford. Was this just a onetime thing?”

He’d never get used to being called that name.

“Just call me Al.” At least that was close enough to his real name that he could accept without cringing every time.

“Are we on a nickname basis now?”

“No!” Wesker refuted, glaring back over at him. “Though, I suppose it doesn't really matter. Because I’ll be gone soon. And you can go back to whatever carefree lifestyle you had before I stumbled in here.”

_Only, that’s not entirely true. Because once I get the strength to punch a hole through your chest that’s exactly what I’ll do._

“You don’t have to leave, you know.”

Wesker’s entire train of thought grinded to a screeching halt.

“What?” Wesker said, his voice small and exposed by the suddenness of those words.

Leon gave him a half sided grin that Wesker barely caught in the dark.

“I mean, I know that’s what I said in the beginning. But once you get all better, you don’t have to just up and go. You can stay a while. Until your mentally ready to go back out there and face whatever it is…your facing.” said Leon. He paused a moment before continuing, “I never asked what happened to you because I had a feeling you’d never tell me. But even though I don’t know all the details, I just want you to know…” his voice became soft and almost rueful. As were his eyes when they shifted to meet Wesker’s own. “…that I’m sorry. I’m sorry someone hurt you.”

Hearing someone apologize for something they didn’t do was strangely satisfying yet it rendered Wesker momentarily speechless. He wasn’t sure whether to be shocked by Leon’s vast sense of compassion, or his sheer stupidity.

“You don’t even know me…” Wesker mumbled. “…I could have deserved it.” He’d never actually admit he deserved it. But he had to find fault somewhere in Leon’s perfect image.

“I don’t think anyone deserves what you went through.” said Leon quietly. “Not that I _know_ exactly what you went through. But… I have a feeling it was pretty traumatic. If it has a stringently reserved person such as yourself clinging onto me in their sleep, then it must have been painful in every way.”

Something tightened in Wesker’s chest. Leon _knew_ how he felt without even knowing what had happened. There was someone who understood him more then anyone else ever had. Someone he wanted to kill yet had him questioning if he really wanted to or not. Leon was… everything a true hero and friend stood for. And he was everything that Wesker, as a rule, hated.

“That aside,” Leon went on, recapturing Wesker’s attention. “I’ve already taken care of you for this long. Do I really need a reason to go the extra mile?”

Perhaps not. But Wesker would be damned if he continued to let this go on any further then it needed to.

“But I don’t… I _won’t_ need your help after I leave here.” muttered Wesker stubbornly. Because that was more truthful then anything. _You can help me by dying._

“You keep saying you don’t need help. Or that you don’t need _anyone’s_ help.” Leon harked back in annoyance. “But how’s that working out for you so far?”

Wesker gritted his teeth.

“I think your silence speaks for itself.”

“Shut up.” Wesker countered. But Leon had made a point. In his own stupid way. And as if to add insult to injury the agent broke out in an arrogant smirk.

“I don’t know if anyone ever enlightened you, but no one can take the world on by themselves.”

///////////////////////////////////////////////

 _What a stupid saying,_ Wesker groused as he paced the length of the rooftop. _Stupid Leon and his stupid face. Having to insert his stupid self where he didn’t belong._

Wesker had survived the childhood experiments on his own. He became the captain of S.T.A.R.S on his own. He killed Spencer _on his own_. He didn’t fucking need anyone there for him now. He was just as strong, just as capable as he ever was before.

“And I’ll fucking prove it to you.” he growled, turning to face the adjacent building. He was so caught up in pretending that Leon could hear his arguments and witness his feat, he ignored the fact that he was actually alone.

_I’ll show you, asshole. I don’t need you to hold my hand._

He took off in a sprint, anger and frustration overflowing his veins. It surged throughout his body, pumping his heart and propelling his legs. His thoughts deviated to Chris. Using his mortal enemy as incentive to run faster, to push himself harder and not hesitate this time. Because once he found Chris he was going to crush his ribcage and break his legs. Maybe he’d even set him on fire. It wouldn’t be lava but it would be the next best thing if it meant he got to hear Chris’s agonizing screams while he burned to death.

The edge of the building was nearing. Only a few more strides to go. Wesker imagined Chris standing on that opposite building, if only to fuel his determination to make the jump. To capture that idiot hero that everybody loved, so he could completely _ruin_ him.

But then a small scuttling sensation of fear prickled his skin at the thought of the man standing just beyond his reach. What if Chris had gotten stronger? What if he stopped Wesker again? What if…Chris killed him again?

A growl of vexation elicited from the back of Wesker’s throat.

_No. I’m not afraid of him. I’m going to end his life. He’s the one who should be afraid!_

The edge drew upon him but his heart lurched and his legs threatened to lock up. Out of desperation to not falter in another failed attempt, he stopped imagining Chris as the one standing on that other building. Instead, he tried to think of another target to kill. One that he could dispatch with ease. An unwitting victim that wasn’t as much of a threat.

Without acquiescence his mind envisioned Leon. But instead of the burning hostility he felt towards Chris, something else took hold and grounded itself deep in his chest. Something that was stronger than anything he’s ever felt before. It made him forget about all the rage that burned within him and all the fear that held him back.

He jumped, soaring over the narrow alleyway and halfway across the other rooftop. Thoughts of Leon dwindled away when he landed roughly; hitting the ground and tumbling over a few times before he staggered back to his feet.

“ _Fuck._ ” He groaned, rubbing a hand over his shoulder.

That’s probably going to hurt like a bitch tomorrow but at least he made it. He turned around to look how far he’d come. It was an impressive distance. A distance that no mere human could even make. Which meant he was finally getting a semblance of his prior strength back. A proud smile stretched across his lips and he strode to the edge of the rooftop to look down at the world with a new sense of control.

From this vantage point, he felt like a god.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////

Wesker was non-too-happy as Leon practically forced him into workout gear and dragged him outside and onto the street. It was a little chilly today but at least the sun was out.

“Why are you taking me with you?” Wesker griped.

“I thought you could use the exercise.” answered Leon, still clutching his wrist and pulling him along down the sidewalk. "Besides, your out on the rooftop so much I thought you'd be excited to have more space to roam around."

Wesker gave out an undignified huff.

“Come on. Look, the park is right across the road.” Leon encouraged.

“I hate the park…” Wesker protested. There was usually people at the park. Wesker hated people.

“Do I really have to give you a detailed lecture on why exercise is good for your health?”

“Please don’t.” Wesker almost begged. Just imagining Leon as any sort of educational role model made him want to shoot himself. The only thing the agent was proficient in was how to annoy people. “Besides, I get plenty of it on the rooftop.” Wesker argued.

“There isn’t a place to go for a jog on the rooftop.”

“We’re jogging?” Wesker said, sounding averse to the idea. If there was one thing that was more boring than hearing Leon talking then it would be jogging.

Or worse…Leon talking _and_ jogging.

He wanted to dig his heels in the pavement but thought better of it. Maybe he could use this opportunity to test how fast he could now run.

“Ok, let’s go.” he relented, bypassing Leon and pulling him along this time. The agent looked startled.

“Wha- wait. Why the sudden change of heart?”

But Wesker had already upped their pace and they soon stood under the stone archway leading to the park.

“I can see you’re eager.” Leon remarked. “Not that I’m complaining. It’s about time you got off the sofa.”

“Let’s just get this over with.”

Leon rolled his eyes and gestured to the trail.

“This path wraps around the whole park. Why don’t we just start off with one lap- H-hey!” Leon called as Wesker took off without him.

His first few bounds were teeming with energy. Added to the fact that the sun was shining and the weather was actually pleasant once the blood got pumping, he supposed jogging wasn’t so bad. But then Leon had to catch up to him.

“Is it a race your looking for?” Leon asked, sounding amused.

“Races are for children.”

“Then consider me a full grown child.” Leon chuckled, dashing ahead.

Wesker restrained himself from entertaining that idiot. But something gnawed at his insides in the face of a challenge. No one was better than him. Not at anything. And he wouldn’t let Leon have something that Wesker could easily take.

He turned his run into a sprint. Easily catching up to Mr. Cavalier and also catching him slightly off guard.

“I’m almost impressed.” Leon snarked, giving him a sideways glance. Which only added fuel to Wesker’s fire. Spurring him onward to go even faster. His legs pounded the pavement and the rapid tempo matched his accelerating heart. Soon, the images around him started to blur out of focus. It wasn't long after that when they altogether turned transparent. Like they weren’t even there to begin with.

Because he was going too fast.

He suddenly stopped himself. Coming to a halt where the path stepped off into a small wooded area. Fallen leaves whooshed into the air at his presence. His heart thrummed in his chest and he gazed around, almost bewildered at the sudden change of scenery. He wondered how fast he was going. How far did he surpass Leon? Should he be worried about what Leon saw?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footfalls drawing closer. He turned toward whoever was approaching and saw that it was Leon. The agent was looking around in search of something.

“Unbelievable… He was going so fast. He was nothing but a blur.” Leon was rambling. More to himself then to anyone that could hear him.

“Leon?” Wesker said, taking a cautious step in his direction. Because the agent was still looking around like he didn’t even see him.

“It’s almost like he disappeared…” Leon muttered. Wesker halted at that. Was he being serious?

“Leon, I’m right here.” Wesker stated, growing more irritated by the second.

“Was that the wind? Because I could’ve sworn I heard a voice...” said Leon walking closer. It got to the point where he was running into him and making them both trip and fall onto the ground. Finally Leon looked over at him with an ever knowing smirk stretched across his face.

“You fucking asshole.” Wesker intoned. Because for a moment, a stupid idiotic moment, he actually thought he turned invisible somehow.

Leon laughed. And Wesker couldn’t help it. The sound of it was so pure and genuine, that it had him chuckling despite himself.

“Oh I’m the asshole? You’re the one who abandoned me. How the hell were you even able to run that fast?”

“Maybe you’re just that slow.” Wesker countered. He rolled them over to slam Leon’s back against the ground. _And that weak,_ he added mentally. Leon gasped in surprise, looking up at him in astonishment.

“What the hell. Just a few months ago you could barely walk.”

“Well, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” stated Wesker, slightly smug with himself. The agent huffed out a laugh.

“True. Though, I’m amazed at your improvement. I almost feel like a proud parent.” revered Leon and he raised a hand to wipe away an imaginary tear from his eye. “My baby’s growing up.”

Wesker chuckled. He’d usually be annoyed with Leon’s theatrics but he couldn’t stop himself from playing along this time.

“They don’t stay young forever.”

“I know, right? I remember when I once held you in my arms.” and Leon broke off into a laugh because he couldn’t keep a straight face saying that. Wesker actually found that funny and before he knew it, he was laughing along with him.

Leon’s mirth ended with a sudden hitch of his breath. His muscles tensed and pressed against the ground in an effort to move back. Wesker suddenly became alert and he swiftly looked over his shoulder to seek out the looming threat. But there was no one else there. No one but them. He turned back to Leon, who still had a stunned expression on his face.

“Leon?” Wesker said, an inkling of uneasiness was beginning to form in the pit of his stomach.

“You…you’re eyes…” Leon breathed out the words with an air of astonishment.

 _My eyes?_ What about them? What could Leon possibly be seeing that could cause such a man of eloquence to go speechless?

“I…” it took a few moments for the agent to remember how to verbalize. “…I didn’t realize…”

“Realize what?” asked Wesker, growing increasingly anxious.

“How beautiful they are.”

The air lapsed into silence. Wesker didn’t know what to say or even make of that. He’s never had anyone call his eyes beautiful before. And at such a seemingly random moment. He was just starting to wonder what induced Leon to say such a thing when the agent blinked and slightly shook his head in a motion of deliberation. He sat up causing Wesker to move away.

“Sorry.” Leon spoke, the cavalier nature of his voice returning. He got to his feet and dusted the leaves off his clothes. “I’m… dehydrated.” As if that explained his weird behavior. “Maybe we should head home?”

 _Home._ He said it like they both belonged there.

Before Wesker could answer, Leon was already breaking off into a jog. Wesker got the impression that the agent was trying to get away from him. And maybe at one point the tyrant would have been roguishly delighted about that. But at the moment, he felt just the opposite. There was a part of him that didn’t want Leon to leave him behind.

So he followed him home.

///////////////////////////////////////////

That night Wesker laid awake in bed. He was on his side, facing Leon who was turned away from him. Unnaturally estranged for once, even in sleep.

It all seemed so odd. For the longest time Wesker wanted nothing more than to keep their lives divided. Yet he couldn’t stop his thoughts from speculating what he did wrong. What made Leon suddenly so uneasy around him. Not that he should care about Leon in any way, but he couldn’t help but feel like he lost something he once had. If only for a moment.

A crawling sensation emerged from underneath his skin. Wesker glanced down at his arm and saw something slinking in the shadows. He swiftly sat up, heart instantly lodged in his throat. He made a dash for the bathroom, shutting the door behind him and flicking on the lights. His reflection had him jumping back and hitting the wall.

“ _Shit_.” he growled but didn’t make a move other then to shrink further away from the mirror.

There was literally something crawling underneath his skin. Faded black lines that looked like plant vines were moving like snakes across his body. The sight was ghastly and it sent a shiver down Wesker’s spine. Not only that, but his eyes were red. They were uncontrollably glowing even in the intensity of the bathroom light.

“ _Fuck._ ” What the hell was going on? He felt panic take ahold of his lungs, felt it obstructing his airway. He tried to get himself to calm down but acknowledging it’s grip on him just made it all the more real. It made it all the more overwhelming.

A knock on the door nearly sent his body into shock.

“Al? Are you alright?” it was Leon. Wesker must’ve woken him up while he was freaking out. The handle started to turn but Wesker immediately threw himself against the door. His crimson eyes shifted to the mirror, catching sight of his reflection and it was then that he realized what Leon must have seen in the park earlier when he looked at him. The abnormal blaze of his eyes. With a sense of unease, he remembered how Leon had called them beautiful. Did Leon really mean that? Or had he just been startled out of rational thought at the time? Maybe that’s why he became distant all afternoon. Maybe he was finally starting to realize what Wesker really was inside.

At the moment, it was also showing outside. He looked like a monster. And he was certain that Leon would say as much if he saw him.

“Hey,” Leon’s voice turned stern when he couldn’t open the door. “What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing…” Wesker stammered. He cursed himself for sounding so vulnerable. The obscure vines were becoming more prominent, like they were trying to protrude outward and break free into the world. It was with an appalling and petrifying realization that the thing beneath his skin was Uroboros. And that it had finally reawakened to do what it was created to do.

“D-don’t come in!” Wesker stated, sounding sordidly desperate to his own ears.

He wasn’t sure why he was trying to protect Leon of all people, though, he told himself that it wasn’t to protect Leon. It was just to protect himself. He didn't know how Uroboros was going to react to a human presence now that it was active. He wouldn't want to risk getting torn apart if the virus decided to forcefully lurch out of him. He closed his eyes, focusing on his breaths but they were still stuttering out of rhythm and the slithering feeling of the vines growing more excited wasn’t helping him.

He was losing control. The darkness that crept across mind was impossible to hide from. Uroboros was taking over. And he didn't think he could stop it.

“It’s going to be alright.”

He could hear Leon’s voice rumbling through the door. The quality of it low and gentle. A mollifying presence in his head as opposed to the one in his body.

“I know you don’t want to talk. But I can tell that you’re scared. And it’s ok to be.” Leon continued. His voice became clearer as Wesker concentrated on the sound of it; willingly following it out of the darkness that threatened to entrap him. “You’re not alone. You don’t have to face your fears alone. I’m right here with you.”

The virus inside of him accumulated and was positively sizzling at his feelings of rage. But it had mistaken that boost of rage for Leon. When that rage was aimed at none other than Uroboros itself.

 _I will **not** be manipulated by a fucking parasite,_ Wesker avowed, asserting his dominance over his own body, feeling the infection inside him hackle and resist his command. Wesker gripped the edges of the sink and stared down his reflection. He felt the porcelain under his fingertips fracture and crack as he used every fiber of strength and willpower to beat the opposing force back down. He squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on the constricting sensation of the vines tightening around his limbs and mentally lashing out at them on every part of his body. The power struggle was quickly sapping Wesker's energy but it wasn't long until his unwelcomed guest finally began to cease and desist. _I’m the one who gets to decide what to do with this power. **I’m** the one in control here! _He battered it into submission, feeling the bulging cords in his skin start to recede. He opened his eyes, flicking them to the mirror and watching with a mixture of awe and shock as the black lines actually began to fade. And the raging fire in his irises simmered down until they looked human again.

He let out an unsteady breath of air that he didn’t know he’d been holding in. His body was a little shaken and sweaty. But other then that, there wasn’t any evidence that indicated what he almost transformed into.

“Are you still alive in there?” Leon’s voice vibrated through the wooden barrier between them. It must have been awhile since Wesker last said anything but the knowledge that Leon had been there the whole time throughout his struggle made him feel… grateful of all things. He can't recall if he's ever felt such a way before.

Instead of answering his question, Wesker opened the door. Spotting the agent leaning against the frame looking concerned yet relieved at the same time. Wesker felt that familiar tightening in his chest. He wasn't sure how to label the emotion that welled up inside him. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted to feel it. Yet he was feeling it regardless and it was pulling him forward.

“You ok?” asked Leon. He arched an eyebrow as Wesker drew closer. In the next moment, the air was forced out of his lungs when he was captured in an unexpected hug.

_I am now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leon, why are you so precious? 😭
> 
>  
> 
> I know the story has really just been fluff so far but *heads up* please read the warning tags for the next chapter.  
> Because violence is coming 😈  
> I'll try to make it to where people can skip the chapter and still read the rest of the story though if you didn't come here for the blood =)


	5. November 28th

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *WARNINGS* for this chapter include: Blood, Violence, Broken Bones, Gore and... Wesker losing his shit basically XD
> 
> The violence is right at the end of the chapter so feel free to skip at: (Before Wesker could even think about what he was doing) - if you're squeamish about that stuff.

“The right to be a god? That right is now mine.” – Albert Wesker

 

Leon woke up to the sun shining in his face. He slowly cracked his eyes open. Rays of light had seeped past his curtains and stretched across the bed, illuminating the outline of another body draped over him. Leon threw a glance over his shoulder, nearly running his nose into another face. He startled slightly but soon relaxed into the possessive embrace he was held in.

 _Well… this is…new._ Leon groggily thought to himself. The agent was usually the big spoon in this arrangement but he supposed he shouldn’t be too surprised with the change in dynamitic after last night.

He never would have expected his taciturn guest to actually _hug_ him. And not the kind of hug that someone stretched into during their sleep but the kind of hug that was willful and… sentimental even. It had been shocking, for lack of a better word. Especially since it came from Mr. Umbrageof all people.

It was the first time the guy had showed any kind of gratitude towards Leon and the agent wondered what could’ve happened last night to warrant such a reaction. He thought it had been another nightmare at first. But if that was the case, then it must have been a nightmare that was worse than all the others.

Leon put it out of his mind for now as he fidgeted. He really needed to pee. He gave a gentle nudge with his elbow.

“Hey,…ya mind?” Leon drawled, voice still lethargic. He might as well be talking to the wall because the other man didn’t even stir. Leon sighed in exasperation and began the slow process of untangling himself from clingy limbs. He was surprised at not getting a reaction out of that. The guy just kept sleeping.

_Like a fucking cat._

Leon smirked at his inner monologue as he got up to head to the bathroom. He switched on the light and swung the door shut behind him. After releasing his bladder into the toilet he went to the sink to wash his hands and noticed the fractured lines on the marbled edges. Leon paused to examine them in bemusement, head still fuzzy from sleep.

 _Were those there before?_ He couldn’t remember ever seeing them there. And that type of damage looked so strange. It looked like… like the impressions of someone’s hands.

“…the fuck...?” Leon muttered.

The fuck happened to his sink?

///////////////////////////////////////

Wesker was eating toast and scrambled eggs for breakfast, his brain in much the same state as his eggs. He really didn’t want to think about anything right now. After last night, he was starting to question the boundaries between Leon and himself. Or if there were even boundaries at all anymore. He’s never hugged anyone. He’s never… _clung_ to someone like they were his lifeline. _What’s wrong with me?_ Wesker criticized himself. He needed to stop this. Whatever _this_ was.

His eyes wandered over to Leon, who was in the middle of pouring himself a mug of coffee. The expression on his face was unreadable. Neutral. Like he was concentrating on keeping his thoughts to himself. Which was weird…for Leon. Though after a few minutes, the agent finally broke the silence.

“Do you know what happened to my sink?” asked Leon, pouring sugar and milk into his mug, almost making it a point to not look at Wesker as he spoke.

Wesker paused midway through a bite of toast.

_His sink._

The memory of his fingers digging into the countertop flashed through head but telling Leon the truth about what happened wouldn’t exactly put the agent’s mind at ease.

“…I don’t know what you mean.” Wesker evaded, taking a bite and being grateful he had his mouth full so he didn’t have to talk anymore. Leon looked a little annoyed by his stonewalling. He picked up a spoon and stirred the contents of his drink almost aggressively.

“What I mean is, there’s cracks all over my sink. Cracks that weren’t there before.”

Wesker was still eating but Leon patiently waited for him to swallow. When Wesker did, he took another bite out of his toast. Leon was just about to take a sip of his coffee but he finally lost his composure. He set it back down on the table rather harshly and gave Wesker a glower. Which was an uncommon expression for the agent’s usual calm features.

“It’s not enough that you have to keep trashing my shit, but you’re gonna lie to me too?”

“I didn’t say anything.” Wesker mumbled around the piece of bread.

“You’re acting like you had nothing to do with it.” Leon stated. “That shit was _marble_.”

He was referring to the fact that no human could so easily break it with their bare hands. Wesker swallowed and gave Leon an unnerving look.

“It must have been some cheap ass marble.”

With a growl, Leon stood up and turned away.

“I’m going to work.”

He didn’t even drink his coffee. The front door clicked shut a moment later, leaving Wesker by himself. He doubted Leon was legitimately angry about the sink. He suspected it was more about Wesker keeping secrets. And Leon feeling the need to know his secrets was just another sign that the two of them were getting too… personal with each other. Leon was already starting to notice things about Wesker that weren’t exactly normal. If Wesker stayed here any longer, he risked Leon finding out the truth.

Though, why he cared if Leon found out the truth or not was still perplexing him. Because it shouldn’t matter if Leon discovered what he really was when Wesker could simply do away with him with his increasingly growing strength.

But a faint throbbing in his chest made Wesker admit to himself that he didn’t exactly _want_ to get rid of Leon.

He didn’t really know what he wanted anymore.

///////////////////////////////////////

It took being alone for the whole day, bored out of his mind to make him remember what he really wanted out of all this.

Chris Redfield’s life.

He was going to get his revenge on the dumb brunette eventually. The question was, _how_? How could he broach the subject with Leon without seeming too suspicious?

_Leon, do you happen to have any friends? Friends that have brown hair and stupid bulging muscles and go by the name of Redfield? Why you ask? No reason. No reason at all…_

That wasn’t exactly subtle but Wesker didn’t know how else to get that information. Well actually… there was another way. He could just _make_ Leon tell him where Chris was. Force it out of his mouth by breaking his ribs one by one.

Wesker waved off the thought as quickly as it came. Not because he wasn’t up to it, of course not. But because he honestly doubted the agent would tell him anything through torture. Leon seemed the type to stay stupidly loyal till the bitter end. Wesker needed to find a different way. A… friendlier approach. Which was going to be difficult because that wasn’t how the tyrant usually handled things.

But in the end, he didn’t have to worry about that.

Leon came home in the afternoon with some takeout like he always did. Wesker was expecting him to still be a little annoyed from this morning but it seemed Leon’s mood had made an improvement throughout the day.

“I wanted to apologize.” said Leon, pushing a box of fried chicken over the kitchen island to where Wesker was sitting on one of the barstools. Wesker glanced down at the offering. He wasn’t really into fried chicken but he pulled it closer regardless. If Leon thought he accepted his apology, then all the better in fooling him later.

“What for?” asked Wesker minutely.

“I realized I might’ve been acting… a bit terse this morning. I didn’t mean to lose my temper.”

“I didn’t know you lost your temper.”

That got Leon to smile.

“Well, I’m not naturally an angry person to begin with, but I still feel bad for being snappy. That’s why I wanted to make it up to you.”

“With fried chicken?” mused Wesker, raising an eyebrow. Leon smirked.

“No, that’s just your dinner. Even if I was pissed, I wouldn’t let you starve.”

 _How noble…_ Wesker burlesqued to himself. Leon continued,

“A coworker of mine invited me over for Thanksgiving. Since I don’t have family in town, I thought it’d be nice to spend it with friends. And… I wanted to extend that invitation to you.”

Wesker’s first thoughts about a social gathering were anything but pleasant. He’d rather stare out the window and watch the rain then be surrounded by a bunch of humans he didn’t know.

It was almost like Leon could sense his brooding thoughts.

“I know you don’t know them. But they’re really nice people. They’re people I’d trust my life with. In fact I have on several occasions. And I’m sure you’d like them. The one who invited me is a good friend of mine. His name’s Chris.”

The world came to a crashing halt at the sound of that name. It had Wesker’s whole body instantly set on edge. His teeth nearly split from how hard he clenched them. The agent didn’t seem to notice his change of demeanor. Because he kept rambling on about how great of a guy Chris was along with his sister who was just as awesome.

_I beg to fucking differ._

“I’m not interested.” Wesker suddenly cut in, causing Leon’s sentence to come to an abrupt halt. He gave Wesker a questioning look before his expression returned neutral and he leaned his body weight against the kitchen island.

“Alright. No one’s forcing you to go. I just thought it’d be good for you to get out more and maybe… socialize with other people. It might help with the healing process.”

_By being in the same room with the guy who threw me in lava and hit me with a rocket launcher? Yeah right._

“I’ll keep that in mind, Dr. Leon.” Wesker monotoned, poking at his chicken. He heard the agent chuckle softly.

“You really are an emo kid at heart.”

Wesker shot him a scowl and it caused Leon to only laugh again. He lifted his hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, no need to stab me with those piercing eyes. I’ll leave you alone. But if you change your mind before Thanksgiving, just let me know.” he kept the offer open as he left the kitchen to go take a shower.

Wesker picked at his food again, his thoughts mulling over Leon’s invitation.

He didn’t refuse to go because he was afraid of meeting Chris again.

He refused to go because he’d rather kill Chris without worrying about anyone else trying to intervene. He had underestimated the value of Chris’s partner when they both opposed him in Africa. Being surrounded by his friends would only make Redfield a harder target. Wesker would do better to wait until all of them left to go home. That aside, he also wanted to take his sweet time with the man to do every torturous and sinful thing he could come up with.

He wasn’t going to _attend_ Chris’s Thanksgiving.

He was going to ruin it.

//////////////////////////////////////

Wesker stood on the edge of the rooftop, his eyes scanning the streets for Leon to emerge any moment now. The agent had asked him one last time if he wanted to attend the banquette but Wesker refused him again, stating that he’d rather sleep. To which the agent only replied with an eyeroll and left him to brood alone. Little did he know what Wesker’s true plans were.

The tyrant caught sight of Leon exiting the building down below and making his way across the street. Ever the blissful fool. He carried himself as if no horror in the world could touch him. That was going to change soon. But Chris would come first.

Wesker gave himself a running start to jump over to the other building. He’s been coming out onto the rooftop the past couple days to develop his speed and strength and he’s seen enough improvement in himself to know that he was more than a match for Chris now.

He watched Leon make his way down the streets. He wasn’t taking a car, so Wesker assumed that Chris actually didn’t live very far. Which sent up a flare of vexation in his chest. To think that Redfield had been under his nose this whole time…

Though, he shouldn’t worry about that now, because soon he was finally going to get his long awaited revenge. He continued to follow Leon via the rooftops and a couple blocks later the agent stopped at an apartment that looked much like their own.

Wesker scowled from his perch. It was going to be difficult to figure out which floor Chris lived on but then Leon pressed a button on the callbox and Wesker focused his eyes on the name tag alongside it. His vision had grown as strong as the rest of his body and he could faintly make out the tiny lettering and form them into a readable name along with a number. The information revealed that Chris lived on the 5th floor. And Wesker was fiendishly delighted with the unrequited information Leon had given him. The agent was buzzed in and he entered the building a moment later.

Wesker sat back on his heels. Now all he had to do was wait.

Which wasn't too bad. Because in the meantime he could concoct all the terrible things he was going to do to Redfield. He had to plan carefully though. He didn’t want to get too carried away and kill Chris too fast. He’d have to draw it out. Moment by moment. Scream by scream. He could hardly wait for the next few hours to pass by.

////////////////////////

It was during his third run-through of his sadistic plans that the front door of the building opened. Wesker snapped out of his dark thoughts and shot his gaze to the front entrance. The sky had grown darker by now since winter’s steady approach made the days shorter. Even with the lack of light though, Wesker could still make out the person that walked away from Chris’s apartment. His eyesight had heighted along with his senses, allowing him to see in the nighttime as if it was daytime. And he almost sent himself off the edge of the rooftop at recognizing the familiar features of Sheva Alomor.

What the hell was _she_ doing here? Perhaps on vacation? Or Perhaps seeing an old time friend? Either way, steam was practically wafting off of Wesker from how furious he was at her appearance. He wanted to rush down there and choke the life out of her.

But she was already getting into a waiting cab. At this point, he’d probably have to chase her halfway through the city if he wanted to spill her blood. He rationalized that he could deal with her later. Besides, there was more tantalizing pray that Wesker wanted to get his hands on at the moment.

With an embittered heart, he watched the cab drive away down the street.

 _I’ll come after you when I’m done with Chris,_ he mentally vowed. He turned his sights back on the building and after a few more minutes, two more people walked out. One of them was a woman with red hair and a robust personally as she animatedly laughed and joked with her friend.

 _Chris’s sister…_ That was another way Wesker could torture Chris. Kill his sister right in front of him. The temptation was impossible to resist.

But Claire had company. And it was none other than Leon.

The two hugged each other under the light of a street lamp as they said their goodbyes. And the sight of them being intimate caused a fretful pang in Wesker’s gut. Leon hugging anyone else but himself had Wesker feeling… indisposed somehow.

 _I’m the only person who belongs in those arms…_ An unfamiliar voice was saying in his head. Wesker shook it off, his heart stuttering from its normal tempo. His grip on the edge of the building had the concrete cracking. He could almost physically feel his eyes glowing red.

 _I’ll kill that fucking bitch._ Now there was a voice he resonated with as his own.

The two didn’t hug for long. They departed and waved over their shoulders at each other. Wesker glowered as he watched them go their separate ways. He debated on going after Claire, envisioning knocking her out and dragging her body back to Chris’s apartment as added punishment to what the man had done to him back in Africa.

But against Wesker’s adamant aspirations, his gaze shifted over to Leon instead. Who was walking away down the shadowy streets by himself in his usual blissful and cavalier strut. Annoyance was always the first thing to come to Wesker’s mind when regarding Leon. But a longing of something else had gripped Wesker’s heart as he watched him leave.

A longing to follow. Like he’d done once before.

Wesker forced his eyes to turn back to Chris’s apartment. Scolding himself for getting too distracted. Claire was already gone, so using her in his torturous plans was obviously out of the question. Besides, he didn’t want to waste too much time on the wrong Redfield. Wesker settled back down in a crouch, waiting again for more of Chris’s visitors to leave. He didn’t want to crash the party with too many witnesses in the room.

But Wesker’s eyes were being rebellious tonight, for they once again shifted to look in the direction where Leon went.

The agent was nearly all the way at the end of the road by now. Even Wesker’s impeccable vision had trouble making him out from this distance. But he’d recognize that swagger anywhere. He was just about to once again compel himself to ignore the agent, when he caught sight of someone else emerging onto the street behind him.

Along with three more.

They were nothing but dark shapes from Wesker’s perspective and it didn’t help that they were also wearing all black. Wesker straightened up to get a better view, seeing that Leon was at least a block or two ahead of them. But the group was progressively following his footsteps. And when Leon turned the corner. So did they.

Before Wesker could even think about what he was doing, he was already dashing across the rooftops in the direction they disappeared in. He got to the end of the block and looked down from the edge of the rooftop. He spotted Leon turning another corner up ahead and the shadowy group of four had split up in pairs. One pairing continued to follow the agent, while the other pairing slinked into an adjoining alleyway.

They were planning on cornering him.

Wesker jumped down and landed onto the sidewalk in a crouch, before rushing forward in a blur and lunging into the shadows of the ally. A surprised cry elicited the air as Wesker snagged the closest person in view and slammed his face into the wall.

“What the fuck?!” exclaimed his companion. A scurry of feet rounded the corner and the first pair appeared. Probably rushing back at the sound of their scuffle.

“What were you planning?” catechized Wesker in a voice that barely concealed his rage.

“Who the fuck are you?” one of them spoke from the street.

Wesker tightened his hold on the one he had against the wall before hauling him over and throwing him at the accomplice by the dumpster. The feeble man weighed next to nothing for the strengthened tyrant. Wesker then rushed the two that stood at the edge of the alleyway, kicking one’s legs out from under him and grabbing the second one by the neck before accidently snapping it with his fingers. The body slid out of his grasp and onto the ground.

“Fuck.” He didn’t mean to kill him that fast. His new form of strength had actually surprised him. He hadn’t been able to test his limits on anything apart from Leon’s stuffed animal and furniture. Wesker looked down at the guy he had kicked in the legs and saw that he had broken those as well, with white bone protruding through the fabric of his jeans and blood gushing like a broken faucet onto the alley floor. The guy was babbling in incoherent agony.

Wesker almost wanted to say sorry.

But then a sharp pain bloomed from the furrow of his shoulder blade. He grunted and cast a glance behind him, spotting one of the assailants twisting a knife deep in his back. Wesker whorled around and broke his arm in half. The guy gave out a shrieking cry but Wesker quickly stifled it by seizing his throat, being mindful not to crush it this time. He slammed him into the brick wall and lifted his free hand in preparation to rip the scumbag’s heart out.

The man spluttered in his grasp, clutching at his arm as if he could physically break away from the tyrant’s steel hold.

“We- we weren’t even after you.” he explained desperately. “This has nothing to do with you!” he cried as his eyes reddened with tears of asphyxiation. Wesker was almost tempted to just choke the life out of him.

“It has everything to do with me.” Wesker growled, pressing close to his pathetic sniveling face. “You were going after Leon and Leon is _mine_.” He stated fiercely. He paused right after the words escaped his mouth and quickly corrected himself.

“Mine to kill.” He tightened his grip on the man’s neck, hearing a wheezing stutter of air leave his lungs. “Just like you are.”

He dragged him up the wall to give himself a better angle, before striking his hand straight through his chest and embedding his fingers into the concrete wall when they exited his back.

“Shit.” Wesker hissed. He missed his heart by a long shot. He’d have to work on that.

Blood foamed out of his victim’s mouth and onto Wesker’s clothes. Or better put, _Leon’s_ clothes. The agent probably wasn’t going to be too happy about that. He yanked his forearm back out, also coming away covered in blood. The man was dead in seconds and Wesker dropped him onto the ground as if he was nothing more then the trash that surrounded them. His eyes scanned the premises. Seeing that the guy with the broken legs had bled out by now and the first guy he had killed still lying in a heap. Though, the fourth guy wasn’t in sight. The coward must have taken off down the alleyway while Wesker was killing his friends.

Wesker darted off down the narrow backstreet, his speed allowing him to cover more ground then the mere human could in the five minute head start he had. It didn’t take long for Wesker to catch up. The man was running for his life toward the light of another street but he’d never make it there. Wesker rushed in behind him and launched his hand forward, digging into the man’s back with his fingers and enclosing them around the narrow scaffold of his spine. The tyrant braked to a sudden halt and wrenched the bone right out of his body.

A blood curdling scream filled the air. It was almost music to Wesker’s ears. The man crumpled to the ground, paralyzed and bleeding profusely from his gaping wound.

“I’m almost sad the chase didn’t last longer.” Wesker chuckled, tossing aside the bloody and splintered backbone. He prowled closer to his writhing prey, who was uselessly trying to crawl away using his arms.

“Oh god, oh god…” he wept through his teeth. Wesker released another cold and sinister chuckle.

“That’s right.” He halted his strides when he approached the man’s head. “Your god is standing right here.”

“…p-please.”

Wesker’s laughter grew louder in volume and darker in essence.

“Soon I’ll hear Chris beg me in the same way.” he crooned. He lifted his foot and planted it on the man’s head. “I might even kill him in the same way.” he entertained the thought as he added more pressure on his sobbing victim’s skull. “It would definitely be quite the spectacle.”

He slammed his heel down, the man’s head crushing like an egg under his strength and bursting outward with a mixture of blood and brain matter on the dirty alley floor. The sobs and wails were instantly silenced. Wesker lifted his boot up to shake off the excess gore. He took a step back to appreciate the newly decorated alleyway with a swell of pride.

It was definitely a work of art

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dayum Wesker, you so scary 😱


	6. November 29th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank you all so much for all the lovely comments and kudos! You guys really are amazing and I love you for it <3

"Six billion cries of agony will birth a new balance. Unfortunately, it's too late for you. You will not live to see the dawn." – Albert Wesker.

 

It was during the ungodly hours of dawn when Wesker finally admitted to himself that he was lost. Though how he managed to get so turned around in the first place was absolutely mindboggling. Chris’s apartment wasn’t that far from where he chased down those thugs. However, if that were really true then he should have found it by now.

It was still dark out but the sky was changing from black to blue and the stars were starting to fade. Dusk felt like an hour ago yet the sun was swiftly approaching. Wesker couldn’t believe hours had passed already. He hadn’t spent that long gloating over the death of his victims. He hadn’t been lost for that long either.

Had he?

He let out a low groan of exasperation and looked around the unfamiliar street.

He’s never been one get lost.

 _I’m not incompetent. I’m just… tired,_ Yes tired. Because he hadn’t slept all day and he stalked Leon halfway through town, then killed four people. So yes getting lost was completely justified. Or so, that’s what he kept telling himself to not feel like a complete imbecile.

He gave himself a moment to regather his thoughts, leaning against a nearby building to rest. A jab of pain instantly flared across his back and a hiss of breath escaped him. He quickly leaned away from the wall and shot a glance over his shoulder.

 _Fuck. I’m a fucking idiot,_ he castigated himself, spotting the knife that one of the thugs had stabbed him with earlier still buried to the hilt between his shoulder blades. He must have been insanely high on adrenaline to completely forget about it. The back of his shirt was soaked in blood, not to mention a trail of it had been left in his waking footsteps.

Low on energy and now low on blood, it was no wonder he couldn’t remember which way to go…

His mood turned grim but something suddenly occurred to him. He looked back down at the trail of blood he left behind.

 _I can retrace my footsteps to that alleyway where I killed those insects. Leon’s street hadn’t been too far from there and once I get my baring’s I can seek out Chris’s apartment again,_ He tried to reassure himself but his head was starting to feel light and his vision grew blurry. Wesker shook himself out of it and pinched the bridge of his nose. This wasn’t how his night was supposed to go. Chris should have been dead by now. Yet here the tyrant was, nearly dead himself.

With teeth clenched Wesker reached back for the knife, fingers searching desperately for the handle. The strain in his muscles screamed in protest as the nerves around the blade tore open from the stretch.

“ _Fuck_.” Wesker snarled, letting his hand fall away. He couldn’t reach it without risking more blood loss. And the last thing he wanted was to pass out in the open like this.

He ignored the knife for now and turned his attention to the brightening sky. Despite the vengeance thrumming through his core, the more rational part of his mind said he had other things to worry about. Morning would come soon and with it, people. He couldn’t risk being seen by anyone. Returning to Chris’s apartment probably wasn’t the smartest idea either. He’s lost too much blood and he’d be damned if he put himself in the position to ever be bested by Redfield again.

That only left him with one real option. Which was to go back to Leon’s place.

Wesker hesitated on that thought. He honestly hadn’t planned on going back to Leon after killing Chris. But then… he hadn’t killed Chris yet so he supposed he could make a slight change in plans. Though, this rather complicated things. He couldn’t just waltz back to Leon’s apartment after being gone all night. The agent would definitely demand some answers. Answers Wesker wouldn’t be inclined to give.

Maybe he could just go somewhere else. Hide out somewhere until he could heal up again. But then where would he go? Leon’s place was the only place he knew.

 _Maybe I can just kill him…_ Wesker thought to himself. Besides, that’s what he told the assailant in the alleyway. That Leon was his to kill. He might as well do it now. It was as good a time as any. The tyrant didn’t need him anymore and after he killed Leon then he could use his home to recover for a few days before finally putting an end to that insufferable brunette.

Yes, that was a good plan. He was strong enough to do the deed. He might be a bit drained at the moment but he’d have the element of surprise. He could still crush concrete with his fist. So crushing Leon’s skull shouldn’t be a challenge.

With a firm resolve, Wesker started to follow his blood trail back the way he came.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

He managed to find his way back to the same alleyway where he killed those thugs. Only it wasn’t exactly in the same state he left it in because this time, the place was bustling with an array of activity.

 _Fuck_ , Wesker cursed himself, diving into the depths of a shadowy corner just as a pair of cops patrolled the perimeter of the crime scene. The area was crawling with investigators and spectators. How the hell did a crowd this big gather in such a short amount of time? He wasn’t expecting anyone to find the bodies until late morning. Unless it already _was_ late morning. In which case his sense of time was even more askew then he originally thought.

“…you alright, man?” a voice drifted above the background prattle.

Wesker recognized that voice. He’d recognize it anywhere.

As if on cue, Chris Redfield walked into view.

Every muscle in Wesker’s body grew tense and alert. His fingers twitched on reflex. Eager to rip apart the BSAA agent limb from limb. The overwhelming urge to kill overrode his senses. And the fact that it seemed all too easy made it that much more tempting to oblige.

The brunette was so close, Wesker could just reach out and grab him by the scruff of his neck before dragging him deeper into the shadows and ripping out his heart. All with spare time to climb to the roof before anyone noticed what happened. It must have been fate that practically brought Chris right into his hands.

But then something stopped Wesker just before he could lunge forward.

“I didn’t sleep a wink…” the sound of Leon’s warm drawl reached his ears.

What the fuck was _he_ doing here?!

Wesker’s jaw was clamped so tight he didn’t even realize it until it started hurting. Leon sauntered up alongside Chris, the both of them steadily making their way closer to the tapped off crime scene.

“Did something happen?” Chris asked. Wesker was stewing in fury and annoyance at just hearing him alone. He couldn’t believe Chris was this close yet… so fucking far away. And all because Leon was standing right next to him.

Wesker tried to think this through. Maybe this was actually for the better. With both of them here and distracted then he could kill them at the same time. Two birds with one stone.

Yes. This was actually more convenient. But he’d have to kill them both simultaneously, or risk one of them fighting him off and saving the other. His eye’s scanned the easiest places to target. The necks would be best. If he could get a hand around each of their necks, he could just snap them in a second.

It wouldn’t be all that fun, especially considering how much he wanted to torture Chris. But this way, he could just get it over with and move on to bigger and better things.

Like world domination.

Wesker crouched forward, getting ready to pounce on his two imprudent victims. He’d been so caught up in his homicidal strategy that he nearly missed the bulk of what their conversation was about.

“I think my cat ran away.” Leon was saying, looking conflicted over his choice of words.

Wesker froze in his prowling movements, eyes narrowing in on Leon.

 _He’s not talking about me_ , Wesker simmered. _He better not be fucking talking about me._

Because the last thing he needed today was Leon acting like his damn **_owner_** of all fucking things.

“Your cat? Since when did you have a cat?” bemused Chris, with a lifted eyebrow.

“Uh…since…two months ago?” Leon didn’t even sound sure of himself.

“Didn’t take you for a cat person.”

“Yeah me neither.” Leon admitted with a nervous laugh. “But it sort of …ended up on my doorstep.”

Chris chuckled.

“And you’ve just been taking care of this stray cat since then?”

“Yeah… but he didn’t come home last night…” said Leon, his tone turning a lower octave in gloominess. A part of Wesker’s heart lurched at the sound of it. He couldn’t explain why but he didn’t like the tone of Leon’s voice. It made him feel…guilty somehow. And he’s never felt guilty about anything before.

Wesker watched them pass by and move out of his reach before he could remind himself that he was supposed to be killing them. He gritted his teeth and punched the wall beside him, leaving a hole forever embedded in the bricks. He could still hear their voices being carried off on the wind.

 “Hm… Well, cats are fickle. If you only had him for two months he probably went to the next warm home to eat and sleep.” reasoned Chris.

_That’s a fucking lie!_

Wesker almost shouted it out loud if only to prove Chris wrong. Because if there was one thing he kept a firm belief in, it was that Chris Redfield was a clueless buffoon. That idiot had stupid principles along with stupid morals. And the world be damned if he was ever right about something.

The tyrant forced himself to calm down. He was getting too worked up over this. He needed to come up with another plan again because he just missed his chance at killing the dynamic duo. Maybe at this point it might be better to kill them separately. Trying to target both of them at the same time was too risky anyway. He should probably do what he initially devised and go back to Leon’s apartment to ambush him there. Then rest up and get rid of Chris afterwards.

With his plan reestablished, Wesker began to sneak away from the crime scene and back to Leon’s apartment, hearing the voices of Chris and Leon fade further away along with their dwindling conversation. Which had changed topic when they finally saw the state of Wesker’s victims.

“What the fuck… you think this is why they called us in on a simple homicide?” Leon’s voice echoed.

“…this isn’t a simple homicide…” Chris’s voice resonated down the alley, sounding eerily detached and haunted at the same time. “…I’ve seen something like this before…but it’s not possible…”

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

By the time Wesker found Leon’s apartment the sun was fully out. He was almost worried that Leon had already returned home. But the tyrant assured himself he could still get the jump on him since the agent wouldn’t be expecting anyone to sneak in through the window. Wesker didn’t have any keys so it was his only point of entry. He scaled up the fire escape and jimmied the living room window open. He slid it up halfway and paused to listen for any movement inside.

Nothing but silence greeted him. Wesker crawled through the window headfirst, being careful not to make a sound just in case Leon really was home. He was nearly halfway through when a sudden jolt of pain shot through every nerve in his body from the knife catching against the window frame. His hands instantly seized the edges of the sill in a grip so harsh it made the wood splinter.

 _Fuck,_ Wesker gritted his teeth, trying hard not to lose his shit. He rose his hand to the pane to slide it up higher but ended up breaking the glass in the process.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Wesker growled. The fucking thing was as flimsy as paper. Shards of glass landed onto the living room floor and Wesker scowled at the blood that dotted in between the spaces. He must have cut his hand at the same time. He pushed the burning sting aside as he shouldered the frame up higher in order to drag himself all the way in at last.

After a moment of catching his breath, he staggered to his feet and shot a final look at the window behind him. He nearly groaned with annoyance. The whole thing was a mess of broken glass and bloody handprints. Leon _definitely_ wasn’t going to be happy about that.

Then again, the agent would have other things to worry about once he got home. Assuming he wasn’t home already. The tyrant prowled through the apartment, looking through each room carefully until he got to Leon’s bedroom. He pushed the door open slowly, scanning the area for any sign of the agent.

“Leon?” Wesker called, hesitantly.

No answer. He was definitely gone. Wesker let out a weary sigh and figured he should probably try and patch himself up before the other man returned. He walked into the bathroom and flicked on the lights; nearly jumping in terror at the person staring back at him.

He was covered in blood, a mixture of his victim’s and his own. His eyes were also glowing red. Wesker blinked a few times, trying to get them to return to normal. But he wasn’t having any luck this time. He let out a short huff and decided to worry about it later, turning around to focus on a bigger problem. He looked at the mirror from over his shoulder and saw that the knife in his back had shifted downward. Probably due to catching on the window.

Wesker might be able to reach it more efficiently now. He lifted his hand back, extending his fingers to the stained blade and wrapping them easily around the handle. He gave a swift yank, sliding the knife out in one fluid motion. He hissed in pain as more blood began to flow from the wound but luckily it wasn’t bleeding for long. The wound was even starting to seal up right before his eyes. It didn’t heal completely though. It was left raw and open but Wesker didn’t doubt that it would be gone within a day.

He just needed to take it easy in the meantime. That aside, he still had to face Leon first. The tyrant contemplated on how he was going to kill him. He supposed he could just settle for breaking the agent’s neck. It would be less of a mess and less of a hassle.

In the midst of his premeditation, the lights of the room began to grow dim. No, not the lights. His vision. Wesker shook his head, struggling to focus.

 _This can’t be happening,_ he’s gotten this far. How could he be shutting down now?

 _…to much blood… I lost too much blood…_ The knowledge came too late. Before he could do anything about it, he was already blacking out.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

The room was spinning, making him nauseous. His vision was a mash up of black and white. Everything appeared distorted.

Disoriented.

He even forget where he was. But a voice in the backgrounded drew his mind out of the fog. A voice he recognized despite it’s state of anxiety and panic.

“What the fuck-” a gasp seized the air. “Al!”

He felt his body get moved around, like a lifeless puppet at the whims of its master, until he found himself cradled in Leon’s strong and protective arms.

“What the hell happened to you?” Leon’s voice flowed through his ears. Wesker focused his eyes on Leon’s face, which held an unsettled look that matched the pitch of his voice.

“Leon…” he was almost relieved to see that familiar face, until he remembered what he came here to do.

The tyrant lifted a poised hand, stretching out toward Leon’s bare throat. Wesker was in worse shape than he would admit but that hardly put him at a disadvantage with Leon so close and so unguarded. His fingertips were only centimeters from that delicate and fragile neck when his cold hand was suddenly clasped in a contrastingly warm one. He tensed and shifted his eyes to Leon’s, meeting a gaze so vulnerable that his lungs forgot how to operate.

“I was worried...” confessed Leon, expression twisting slightly with regret. “Fuck, I… I actually thought you ran away.”

Wesker's heart swayed in his chest and for a split second he completely forgot about revenge and murder; for his mind was fully occupied by the innocent and purely concerned look Leon was giving him. His eyes held the depth of an ocean and Wesker never noticed how blue they were before.

Or how beautiful.

“But I’m glad you came back.” Leon continued in a soft and palliative tone. “…I’m glad I got to see you again.” His words had Wesker’s barriers crumbling; causing him to cave to the flood of emotions he’s been fighting against this entire time.

“I’m sorry…” Wesker spoke, his voice a tormented note of guilt and regret. Leon looked confused.

“For what?” the agent asked quietly.

“…for breaking your window.”

_For plotting to kill you._

“And ruining your clothes.”

_And murdering four people in your name._

Wesker hesitated before continuing,

“I know you hate it when I trash your shit.”

_You’d probably hate me if you knew the truth._

“Al,” Leon’s tone was a gentle chastise. “You don’t have to worry about any of that now.”

 _Why are you so fucking perfect?_ Why did Leon so easily just accept it? And why was he so unconditionally caring? He was everything that was brave and good in the world.

And Wesker hated the fact that he couldn’t hate him.


	7. December 13th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you guys so much for the kudos <3 and comments! ^_^ They're golden! XD

"Seven minutes. Seven minutes is all I can spare to play with you." – Albert Wesker.

“Does it hurt?”

“Just my ego.”

Leon chuckled. The agent had done an expert job in taking care of him. Like always. But Wesker wasn’t thrilled that this had become a normal occurrence. He didn’t want to kill Leon anymore but that didn’t mean he wanted him as his caretaker either.

After cleaning him up in the shower and providing some clean sweatpants, the agent had Wesker lay face down on the bed to treat his wound.

“I think you might need stitches.” Leon commented, his careful fingers examining the lesion.

“I don’t need stitches…” Wesker refused. He heard Leon let out a jaded sigh behind him.

“Whatever. I’m not going to hold you down and force a needle in your back. But that doesn’t mean I’ll let it get infected.”

That made Wesker slightly apprehensive but before he could demanded what Leon meant, he felt some sort of liquid pour onto his cut. A moment later, sizzling bubbles hissed into his open flesh. His muscles locked up and he shot a scowl over his shoulder, spotting the peroxide bottle in Leon’s hand.

“You fucking asshole!” Wesker barked. He honestly doubted he needed to worry about the wound getting infected. He was pretty sure it’d heal by tomorrow anyway. But Leon didn’t know that.

“A ‘thank you’ would have sufficed.” muttered Leon, tearing open a sticky packet of gaze and applying it to Wesker’s back. “Would it kill you to show a little gratitude? At the very least you could’ve said: ‘hey Leon thanks so much for taking care of me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’” the agent impersonated a horrible British accent.

“Go to hell.”

“I’ve already been there.” countered Leon somewhat smugly. He laid the first aid box aside before climbing off the bed. “You're pale. Which means you probably lost a lot of blood. You’re going to need to eat something so your body can replenish it. I’ll go for a food run. What do you want?” asked Leon, moving about the room as he put on his jacket and shoes.

“…I want you to stay.” Wesker said instead. His words caused Leon to pause. But it wasn’t too long before his movements picked back up again.

“I’ll be back soon.” the agent assured. “I don’t have any food in the apartment so I don’t really have a choice.” After he was ready he turned his gaze back on Wesker. “What do you want me to bring?”

“I guess I don’t care.”

Leon rolled his eyes.

“Tacos it is then.” He turned to leave the room but not before casting one last look over his shoulder. “…try to stay put.” Leon stated.

“Where else am I going to go?”

Leon smirked and then the bedroom door closed behind him, leaving Wesker alone to consider his current predicament. Leon seemed rather amiable at the moment but Wesker presumed that it was only an image that the agent was trying to uphold. It was more realistic for him to be chary of Wesker’s return. Underneath that phlegmatic exterior he probably was. And Wesker would be stupid to think Leon wouldn’t demand any answers once he got back.

He was wrong.

When Leon came back Wesker was half asleep but he became fully conscious at the sound of the door opening and clicking shut. He heard the ruffle of a plastic bag as Leon set something that smelled warm and delicious on the bedside table.

“I went with chicken tacos. I hope you like it.” said Leon, shooting a glance at Wesker and seeing him without a blanket. He grabbed the edge of the comforter and pulled it over him.

“I’m not cold.” Wesker informed.

“Hm… You usually are.” A few seconds passed before he added, “And I mean that both figuratively and literally.”

Wesker frowned and a light smile quirked up the corner of Leon’s mouth before he moved away.

“You should probably get some rest after you eat. You can tell me what happened in the morning…” His voice then lowered. “…though I’m not assuming you’d actually tell me anything. Not that I really mind. You’re not a man of many words anyway.” he started to leave but Wesker grasped his wrist before he got too far.

“Wait.”

Leon stopped and turned to look at him.

“…do you really mean that?” questioned Wesker in disbelief. Because how can anyone not want an explanation after all this time? How could anyone be that careless about the company they kept?

“Even after everything…after everything that happened and everything you don’t know-”

“And what do I need to know?” Leon interrupted him. “Other than the fact that you’re hurt and need my help?” He then shifted his eyes to the floor, seemingly reluctant to continue but in the end he did, “It’s already enough to know that you’re alright. Does anything else really matter?”

The affirmation left Wesker momentarily speechless. The way Leon said those words… they held nothing but raw honesty. Like there was truly nothing else in the world that was more important to him.

Wesker tightened his grip around the agent’s wrist and tugged him closer.

“And why do I matter so much to you, Leon?”

Leon didn’t say anything for what seemed like an eternity. The silence that hung in the space between them was enough to drive Wesker crazy. He was just about to press the agent for an answer when he finally broke the terse air.

“Because I already _invested_ so much time and energy into getting you better.” the younger man trained a longsuffering gaze back on Wesker. “…I’m practically in debt at this point.”

After the words left his mouth he gave Wesker one of his irrefutable smirks, one that masked the deeper emotions lurking behind those blue eyes, and slipped his wrist out of the tyrant’s grasp.

“Now get some rest, asshole.”

Wesker stared after Leon as he left the room and closed the door. Probably gone to clean up the living room and bathroom. All without questioning Wesker further. All without demanding some sort of compensation in return.

An overwhelming emotion constricted around Wesker's ribcage, making it feel hopelessly garroted. For some weird reason the sensation had him remembering all the victims he’s killed by tearing their hearts out of their chests. He’s never wondered how it would feel to watch your heart get stolen right before your eyes by someone you couldn’t fight against.

But now that he thought about it, he supposed it would feel a lot like this.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

He was drowning.

He didn’t know how he ended up here, in an endless ocean with an unseen force that pulled him further into the darkness. All he knew was that he needed to get out. Needed to swim to the surface. He struggled under water. The air was running out of his lungs. He couldn’t breathe. And the shadows that stretched up from the depths of the sea blocked out his view of the light above.

 _I can’t die like this,_ Wesker’s thoughts were desperate as panic began to settle in. The light was starting to fade as he was pulled further down. His lungs weakly fluttered.

_It can’t end like this!_

Wesker suddenly awoke.

It was early in the morning. The sun was barely shining through the curtains and it felt like a ton of bricks was pressing on his chest. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and looked down, spotting the source of his burden. It wasn’t a ton of bricks that was lying on top of him. It was Leon. The agent was sleeping soundly, looking downright comfortable with using Wesker as a pillow. A look of annoyance flashed over Wesker’s face as he pushed Leon off of him, feeling the air properly fill his lungs once he liberated himself from the weight of another body. He heard Leon complain in a wordless grumble before he began to stir from his slumber.

“…ugh, where’s the fire…” Leon yawned drowsily.

“In the kitchen.” Wesker falsely informed, causing the younger man to instantly sit up in panic.

“Shit! For real?” He looked over at Wesker in distress. His apprehension made the tyrant actually smile.

“False alarm.”

Leon frowned, then grabbed one of the pillows and hit him in the face.

“You asshole.” But there was a hint of endearment in Leon’s voice. A chuckle left Wesker’s lips. He grabbed the pillow on his face and whacked Leon back with it, hitting him hard enough to knock the agent over.

“Damn, no need to go all gung-ho on me.” Leon complained, rubbing a hand over his wounded face. “Didn’t expect you to even be able to sit up.” He lowered his hand and looked over at Wesker. “…how are you feeling by the way? Are you in any pain?” Leon asked, his tone switching to a note of concern.

“I’m fine.” replied Wesker, he could still feel a slight tingling between his shoulder blades but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t walk off.

“I’m glad to hear it.” said Leon, looking relieved with a soft smile on his lips. Wesker’s eyes shifted to his mouth. His lips looked as soft as his smile. The tyrant didn’t even realize how long he’d been quiet until Leon spoke up again. “Is something wrong?”

Wesker gaze returned to Leon’s, noting how bluer the agents eyes were in the sunlight. They really were like a boundless ocean. An ocean that Wesker was drowning in.

“I need to tell you something.” Wesker quietly averred. Leon’s features slowly inclined in curiosity.

“What do you need to tell me?”

Even in his puzzlement he didn’t appear distrustful. Rather the contrary. He looked at Wesker with an air of trust and belief that he was anything but a heartless monster. Even when he was covered in blood, Leon continued to _not_ assume the worst in him. Wesker wondered if Leon would still look at him the same way if he learned the truth. Because at this point, nothing seemed to faze Mr. Cavalier in the slightest.

“It’s about last night…” Wesker began, somewhat hesitant on continuing. But after everything Leon’s done for him, he at least deserved to know this, “The reason I came home like that was because… I went looking for revenge.”

Leon looked somewhat cynical with the information.

“What? Why?” He asked. Wesker turned quiet, deliberating on what to say next. But Leon was quick to speculate. “Is this because of what happened to you when I first found you?”

“Yes.” Wesker admitted. The answer didn’t calm the agent down at all. It actually seemed to unsettle him even more.

“What the hell, man? Do you honestly think revenge is the answer? What if they killed you?” Leon questioned in disapproval.

“That would never happen.” stated Wesker. Because first of all, they were dead. And second of all, he knew well enough by now that he couldn’t die. Leon, however, wasn’t inclined to agree.

“It’s that kind of mentality that gets you into these situations.” Leon stated, his tone growing in anger. “Fuck, when I found you on my bathroom floor last night I thought… I thought…” he struggled with the words before exhaling a steady breath to calm his mind. “I thought you were dead.” he sounded so upset with the thought. With the memory.

And it had Wesker speaking out of turn.

“I’m sorry.”

Leon scoffed in disbelief.

“Are you? Because if you are, then you’ll promise to never pull that kind of shit again.” he gave Wesker an irrefutable look. Wesker gave him a questioning one in return.

“You want me to promise?”

“Yes. Promise you want go looking for trouble. That you won’t leave again... not without saying goodbye at least.”

Wesker stilled at the words. Why would he promise those things when he wasn’t even sincere about them? Why tie himself down to something so trivial? Something so seemingly unimportant?

Though, when Wesker looked into Leon’s eyes he could see that it _was_ important. And if it was important to Leon then Wesker supposed it was worth giving him his word if it meant that it would make the agent happy in some way.

“I promise.”

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

Early December. The air was cold and crisp with the fresh snowfall. The temperature probably bordered on freezing, yet the tyrant could hardly feel it’s demoralizing affects. The only thing he _could_ feel was a mild chill and it was all thanks to the convalesced virus burning through his blood stream. Leon on the other hand was practically shaking in his boots as the both of them left footprints down the jogging trail.

“Fuck, how are you not shivering?” the agent complained.

“I guess I’m used to it.” Wesker warded off. “You know, it was your idea to come out here in the first place.” he reminded in slight annoyance.

“I was trying to do something nice for you.”

“You call being out in freezing weather nice?” inquired Wesker, not that he was actually bothered by the winter gale but he _was_ bothered by the fact he was dragged away from Leon’s warm bed for some _required_ exercise. Ever since he recovered from the knife wound and the immeasurable blood loss, the agent’s been harping on about physically therapy and why it’s important for strengthening muscles. That didn’t matter in Wesker’s case but if he didn’t want Leon needlessly questioning him about his abnormalities then he had to play along with this whole recovery spiel.

“It’s not like I need you with me if I wanted to go out for a walk in the park anyway.” Wesker went on matter-of-factly.

“Oh really? If I wasn’t here then how would you be able to have a snowball fight?”

“What-”

Something cold and icy hit the back of his head. He turned to aim a scowl at Leon.

“Try not to act like a child for five minutes.”

Leon let out a laugh.

“Try not to act like there’s a stick up your ass.” the agent snarked back. Wesker finally had enough. He ducked down just as another snowball flew over his head and grabbed a handful of snow in his fist before chucking it back at Leon. The snowball hit the younger man square in the face.

It caused Wesker to chuckle.

“Ten points for slytherin .”

“Making you binge-watch those movies was a mistake.” Leon regretted, wiping the snow off his face.

“As I've said. Before you _made_ me watch them.” Wesker retorted. Leon released another laugh, bending down to form a second ball of snow in his palms.

“If I recall correctly, you started to like them.” noted Leon, throwing a curveball, which Wesker easily dodged.

“The only thing I liked was Dumbledore dying.” stated Wesker. Leon gasped in dramatic outrage.

“You heartless bastard.”

Wesker smirked, _you have no idea._ He threw a snowball that was hiding behind his back and it landed directly on the agent’s forehead.

“That’s another ten points for slytherin.”

“Twenty points deducted for smirking.”

“You don’t make the rules!” Wesker argued, but he was hardly taking this seriously as he laughed and threw snowballs with the agent. Their battle carried them across the park and to the edge of the woods that enclosed the snow covered trail. Leon broke off into a run to gain cover behind the trees.

“That’s cheating!” Wesker called.

“It’s called strategic thinking! You should try it for once!” Leon mocked from within the small forest. Wesker dove into the woods and caught sight of Leon dashing further past the trees. Wesker chuckled and followed suit.

“There isn’t much strategy in fleeing, Leon.”

“Who says I’m fleeing?” Leon’s voice was an obvious goad to get him further into the woods but Wesker only realized that a moment too late. He’d lost sight of Leon but he’d been tracking his footprints in a fast sprint. The footprints however had suddenly ended beside a wide Oaktree. A foot stuck out in front of him before Wesker could slow his strides and he was sent head first into the snow. He heard Leon’s infuriating laughter erupt behind him before a snowball hit him in the face.

“Twenty points for gryffindor.”

Wesker growled, standing up to dust the snow off his clothes.

“Twenty points seems rather generous.” he carped.

“Don’t be such a sore loser.”

“Wait so _I’m_ the loser?” Wesker protested.

“Yeah, you were obviously just K.O’d.” Leon informed. Wesker gave him a challenging stare.

“Is that so?”

Leon sensed the mischievous threat in his words. He backed away.

“Don’t you _dare_.” Leon intoned. But he could tell he wasn’t simply walking away from this one. He turned and ran but Wesker was quickly upon him, barricading him against the trunk of the tree with his arms and pinning him in place.

A defeated laugh escaped Leon despite the odds and Wesker smirked as he held up a snowball in one of his hands. Leon’s laughter stopped, his expression a mixture of surprise and exasperation.

“Oh come on, how the hell did you even make one that fast-” his words were cut off by the cold flakes of ice smashing into his face. Wesker chuckled.

“Fifty points for overkill.”

Leon laughed through the snow before wiping it away with his hand.

“Alright, alright. You win.” Leon surrendered, shaking his head to dislodge the ice that was stuck to the strands of his hair. Before Wesker thought about what he was doing, his hand extended to Leon’s head and brushed off the remaining clumps of snow. An appreciate smile grew on Leon’s face and Wesker, just now coming to terms with his actions, retracted his hand. But before it could completely fall away, Leon gripped it in his own.

“Thanks.” said Leon. The agent’s hand felt cold. It made Wesker remember a time when it was the other way around. Where he was cold and Leon was the warm one. And Leon seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“Your skin is warm.” Leon couldn’t help but comment. His gaze wasn’t pointed at where their hands were joined but instead trained on Wesker’s face. Like he was seeing something there that Wesker couldn’t see himself. “…just like your eyes.”

The words were murmured in distraction. What exactly was Leon looking at that had him so entranced? The agent inched forward like he wanted to get a closer look. The air that seeped past his lips was warm and cloudy. Wisps of condensation teased Wesker’s skin because of how close they were standing.

Wesker's eyes glanced down to Leon’s lips which were barely a breath before his own. He noticed that even in this unforgiving cold they weren’t chapped or faded. Instead, they appeared soft and smooth. And Wesker wondered if that’s how they would feel against his own lips. Soft and pliant. Smooth and yielding. It wasn’t long after conjecturing the feel of them when he began questioning the taste of them. Would they taste like the cold snow around them? Or perhaps they’d still carry a hint of breakfast from this morning. Maybe he’d taste the remnants of coffee on the agent’s tongue. Leon did always enjoy his coffee in the mornings. Wesker didn’t doubt that he would enjoy it as well.

A flock of snow birds fluttered from the tree overhead, startling them both.

“Shit.” Leon huffed out in a short laugh, looking up. “Those birds almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Yeah…same here.” Wesker lied, if only to avert the attention away from what he’d been fantasizing about.

Leon let out another laugh at his admission and moved away,  trance broken, like there was nothing ever there to begin with.

“I’m hungry. You?” asked Leon casually. There was something hidden in that expression that made Wesker question if food had really been on the agent’s mind this whole time. But instead, he followed Leon’s swift retreat.

“Starving.” Wesker answered.

“Well, I hope you’re craving for Subway. Cause that’s the closest thing to us.” Leon chuckled. Little did he know there was something else that Wesker was craving for.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

Wesker asked himself how long things were going to stay like this. For the past few weeks after that knifing incident the two of them had fallen into a different routine. The both of them helped make breakfast together now that Wesker was more physically active. Leon would go to work and then come home with takeout. Which they ate while watching some drivel on TV or Netflix. Though it wasn’t always like that. Sometimes they’d talk, but most of the time they'd annoy each other. Sometimes Leon would ask him stupid things like what his favorite color was. Sometimes Leon would tell him what a shit day he had at work, or just talk shit in general about a coworker he hated.

And Wesker…didn’t actually mind. He was even content with it. So content, that he forgot about devising some world domination scheme in the weeks that followed after Thanksgiving.

He really had lost sight of what he stood for. It even bothered him a little.

But what really bothered him was the fact that Leon didn’t ask him when he was leaving. Was the agent just content in letting him stay indefinitely? The notion seemed ridiculous. Then again, Leon wasn’t the kind of guy to plan too far ahead. He probably _was_ happy to let things stay just the way they were. Yet Wesker was smart enough to know that nothing lasts forever.

Especially after a certain dream he had one night that changed his prospective on everything.

Wesker was back at the park. Snow blanketed everything in sight. The grass, the trees, even the sky, where a continuous supply of it steadily fell from the clouds. The air was cold and fragile. Broken only by the soft breaths that escaped his and Leon’s lips. They were under that icy oak tree with Leon’s back against the trunk, barricaded by Wesker’s taller and broader stature. A shiver rolled through Leon’s body and in response, Wesker drew the younger man further into his arms.

“Are you cold, Leon?” Wesker asked.

“No.” was the agent’s reply, his voice a soothing timbre to Wesker’s ears. “Even if I was, I’m pretty sure you’d just set me on fire to keep me warm.”

“I’d never do that.” Wesker denied. Perhaps to anyone other then Leon. But never Leon.

“Really, Wesker?”

That should’ve been the first sign that this was nothing but a senseless dream. Because if Leon really knew who he was, he’d never let him this close.

“Really.” Wesker affirmed. Then again, if this really was nothing but a dream, then it was one Wesker didn’t want to wake up from. If for just this once he could have something that he couldn't dream of having outside his mind, then he was going to exploit it to the fullest extent.

“I wish you could be this accepting in real life.” Wesker murmured.

“Am I not accepting enough for you? You did break most of my stuff and came home covered in blood. Yet I’d let you do it all over again and still accept you into my bed.”

Wesker chuckled. Because that sounded exactly like something Leon would say.

“Even in my dreams you’re like him in every way.” Wesker was almost impressed with how his mind could conjure in exact replica of the agent. But that’s all it was when it came down to it. A replica. “…I wish I could have you in every way.” He confessed in a hushed whisper. Even in his mind, he didn’t trust that the secret was out.

“You can.” spoke Leon, though it sounded changed somehow. Wesker hardly paid it any thought as his lips suddenly met Leon’s in a long awaited kiss. The agent’s lips were as smooth and soft as he’d imagined them in real life, matched with the practiced movements that only a dream could adapt to.

… _want you to touch me…_ Wesker was thinking, and in the next moment Leon’s hands were on him as if he was literally in his head and reading his mind. His fingers moved down the front of Wesker’s torso until they reached the hem of his jeans. They were unbuttoned and unzipped and a moment later Leon’s hand wrapped around him with a gentleness he’s only felt when the agent was treating his wounds.

Wesker released a quiet moan against Leon’s mouth and the agent licked along his lips before slipping his tongue inside. His hand began a slow rhythm up and down Wesker’s hardening length and it caused the tyrant’s hips to cant up into his touch, eliciting another moan from his throat. His hands griped the trunk on either side of Leon, fingers clenching against the bark until his knuckles turned white and the tree creaked in protest.

 _…wish this wasn’t a dream…wish this was real…_ Wesker’s thoughts yearned.

“You can make it real.” Leon murmured against his lips, giving a lingering squeeze at the base of his dick.

_You’d never accept me in real life._

“Do I need to?”

The words seemed out of character for him. And Wesker was so lost in the feeling of Leon against him and touching him that he hadn’t realized the younger man's voice had steadily changed pitch.

_‘You could just hold me down, you know.’_

Wesker nearly bristled at the thoughts in his head. They almost sounded like they were said by someone else. But he decided to push his trepidation aside. This was just a dream after all. He lifted a hand off the tree and cupped Leon’s face in his palm, turning it towards him for another kiss.

_I could never hurt you._

_‘I might like it though.’_ That definitely wasn’t Leon’s voice. And this definitely wasn’t Leon.

Wesker pulled away but upon doing so something pulled with him. Something black like tar that was stuck to the surface of his skin.

 _What the fuck._ Wesker’s eyes grew wide as the image of Leon changed into something else entirely. Something that embodied nothing but a mass of thrashing and convulsing parasites that sprouted out and tangled their threadbare vines around Wesker’s limbs.

_Uroboros._

Of all the things to use against Wesker it had to choose Leon.

 The tyrant snarled, struggling to tear himself away from the black snares.

_‘he’s so close to you. You can have him. You can **infect** him!’_

“No!” Wesker shouted, ripping himself away.

He woke up with a gasp, his heart pounding furiously in his chest. An uneasy sense of dread griped his entire being and he sat up to look around the room before spotting a distorted black mass hovering at the foot of the bed.

On instinct, Wesker snatched the lamp off the bedside table and chucked it at the shadow in the room. Hitting his target dead center and causing the glass to break into pieces upon impact.

“Fuck! What the fuck!”

Wesker froze at Leon’s voice. A second later the lights flicked on, revealing a _very_ displeased Leon with a streak of blood running down his arm.

“What the fuck, Al.” Leon snapped, he gestured to the mess on the floor. “This is exactly why I can’t have nice things.”

“Leon-” Wesker broke off, feeling overwhelmingly mortified and desolate. “…I’m so sorry.” He can’t remember a time before meeting Leon when he’s ever apologized for anything. Yet Leon’s presence alone had him regretting his entire existence.

Leon let out an exhausted sigh and turned away from him.

“Whatever. I’ll clean it up when I get back from work. They called me in early and I was trying not to wake you while I got ready.”

_Oh._

The agent went to the bathroom to clean himself up. Wesker wanted to shrink under the covers. Leon seemed genuinely angry this time. It wasn’t something that Wesker was used to seeing on the usually calm and collected man.

Said man returned a few minutes later with a new bandaged arm to grab his jacket and slip in on. He moved toward the door but then stopped and looked back at Wesker. Almost apologetically. And if Wesker had to guess why, it would probably be for yelling earlier.

“Try not to break anything else. Alright?” said Leon in a lighter tone.

He then left the room and Wesker heard the front door open and close before being alone again. Perhaps it was for the better. For both their sakes. If he continued going on like this then… he wasn’t sure what would happen. Leon definitely wasn’t safe with him. Not when Wesker was so insecure about the virus dwelling in his body. And the last thing he wanted was to hurt Leon again. Which meant he had to leave.

Wesker convinced himself that leaving wasn’t a big deal. Especially since he’s been by himself for the majority of his life. He knew how to live without anyone else. Aside that, the prospect of being alone wasn’t something that could negatively affect him in an obstructive way.

After all, he was used to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't important but the quote I used for this chapter is one of my favorites in the game. When I played RE5 with my friends and we faced off Wesker and Jill and he said those words, I was like... "this will be seven minutes of heaven for me." XD
> 
> By the way, CHRIStmas is around the corner. So I think you all know what that means... 0_o


	8. December 25th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the wonderful comments! ^_^ they're like early Christmas presents! lol

"Chris, it appears that our fates are forever intertwined." – Albert Wesker

 

Leon got home from work late in the afternoon. He thought that by going in early, he’d be clocking out early but he was wrong. The agent rolled his shoulders, feeling tense from the long and taxing day. He unlocked his door and kicked it shut behind him, going into the kitchen to set a bag of takeout on the countertop. He moved through the apartment and into his room, ditching his shoes and jacket along the way. He made a beeline for the bathroom but then noticed something about the room that made him take pause.

The place was tidied up. The broken glass on the floor was gone.

With a twinge of guilt Leon realized that Al must have cleaned it up. He began to feel bad about this morning. Sure, the guy threw a lamp at him but Leon should have asked him _why_  he did it. After all, there had to be a good reason that Al acted out like that. Perhaps the poor man had another nightmare and it somehow blurred into reality.

Leon wandered back through the hall and into the living room. He spotted Mr. Umbrage laying on the couch with an episode of Breaking Bad on TV.

“Hey,” Leon softly greeted. The other man cut a glance at him before his eyes returned to the screen. Leon took that as some form of acknowledgment. He deliberately walked further into the room.

“…thanks for cleaning up my room.” said Leon. Al didn’t appear to be listening. The agent quietly sighed and ambled up to the couch. He sat down on the floor and leaned his back against the sofa before turning his head in Al’s direction to level him with a sheepish look.

“I’m sorry about this morning.” Leon apologized.

“I’m the one who threw a lamp at you.” Al reminded briskly. He didn’t sound very culpable but Leon was just relived he was talking again.

“I know. But… I should have asked why you did it.” Leon spoke reflectively. “Instead I reacted poorly.”

“It was a natural reaction to getting hit with a lamp.”

Leon turned fully around then. His eyes locking onto the other’s.

“That might be true. But still…” He lifted his hand and slid it into Al’s own. The sudden contact of skin made the other man stiffen but he didn’t attempt to pull away. His eyes glanced down to their hands before shifting back to Leon’s face.

Leon was starting to wonder if maybe he crossed the line. He’s been asking himself that question more and more these days. But it wasn’t anything they haven’t done before. Like that time underneath the snowy oak tree. The memory had his skin feeling warm and his eyes shifted down as he cleared his throat.

“I took some time to think about it and I realized… that it happened again, didn’t it?” asked Leon, his words careful. He didn’t want to sever off the tiny connection they had built over all this time. He continued in a gentle tone, “You had a nightmare.”

The other man was quiet for a moment before verifying that presumption.

“It’s nothing new.”

“That isn’t the point.” said Leon, his hand tightening around Al’s. He was angry with himself that he didn’t see it sooner. “I should’ve been there for you.” Leon murmured. “I’m sorry I wasn’t.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” Al placated, pulling his hand away from Leon’s, much to the agent’s dismay. “And you don’t have to keep worrying about my wellbeing.” He sat up to put some distance between them and settled in a new spot on the other end of the sofa. “I’ll be gone soon anyway.”

Leon’s heart staggered out of rhythm at the unexpected news, his eyes held a glimmer of confusion as they followed the other man’s movements.

“What?” Leon uttered in response. He didn’t want to believe what he just heard. Al was facing away from him, fixing his gaze on anything but Leon.

“You couldn’t have expected me to stay forever.” he asserted impersonally.

“Well, no but-” Leon stumbled over his words, though, it wasn’t like he even got the chance to fully articulate them.

“Then rest assured, I’ll be gone by tomorrow. The only reason I’m still here is because I promised you that I’d say goodbye.”

Leon was instantly on his feet, looking down at him in objection. This was all so sudden. So unexpected. It had Leon cracking like ice.

“Wait, we aren’t going to talk about this?” Leon protested.

“And what is there to talk about?”

“Gee, I don’t know…” Leon struggled as he grasped at straws. “Like where you’re going to stay?”

“And why would that concern you?” the other man disparaged, obviously trying to shut down this whole conversation.

“It concerns me because I’m your friend!” Leon couldn’t stop himself from blurting.

Silence settled over the air. Al was staring at Leon in stunned disbelief. And it made Leon wonder if this guy has ever had a friend before.

“Isn’t that what we are?” Leon pressed. Al didn’t say anything and Leon’s entire being felt crushed under the silent affirmation.

“I see…” Leon uttered to himself, feeling more dejected by the moment. Maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised. “…none of this meant anything…”

“That’s not true.” The other man suddenly cut in. He was also on his feet now, giving Leon a obstinate look. “This meant _everything_ to me.”

The confession left Leon wordlessly shocked. But Al quickly caught himself in his own admission and struggled to cover it up.

“I just… I just don’t want to be a burden anymore.”

The agent was beyond confused by that.

“And when have I ever made you feel like you were a burden?” he argued. “You’re anything but that.”

“That’s not what I mean-”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I-” Al let out a frustrated sigh. He looked conflicted. Frustrated. Like there was something he was trying to hide yet show at the same time. But in the end he shook his head and gave Leon a resolute look. “It’s just that I have my own life to live. And you have yours.” Al stated soundly. “Our lives should be lived separately, Leon.”

If the agent felt crushed before, he was absolutely broken now. He could feel his features slant in disbelief that Al would say such a thing. He could feel his eyes glass over in sadness that Al actually said it. The other man turned away from him then, like he couldn’t stand the sight of Leon any longer. It felt like every organ that kept Leon alive was shutting down, every vibrant speck of color sapped from his vision. He was stuck in a black void while the world was leaving him behind. But he couldn’t just let it get away.

He reached out and gripped the other man's wrist.

“Wait, please.” spoke Leon, his tone soft. To his own surprise, Al actually listened. He looked back at Leon, his expression appeared neutral on the surface but his vibrant eyes looked like they wanted to dart away at any moment. It was then that Leon realized that he couldn’t make Al stay, no matter how much he wanted him to.

“Look, I… I want you to know that it’s ok.” said Leon, albeit reluctantly but honestly nonetheless. “If this is what you really want…”

Al looked indecisive but he didn’t say anything. The agent paused a moment then took a steadying breath before continuing,

 “At least stay until the end of the month…” Leon suggested, trying to be hopeful. “I mean, it would be more convenient. So I wouldn’t have to come visit you on the holidays to who-knows-where.”

The other man was quiet yet again. And Leon worried about what his silence might mean. He stared at Al, trying to beseech an imploring look.

“Please?”

Silence stretched on for what seemed like hours before Al finally gave in,

“Alright.” he complied. Leon almost wanted to let out a breath of relief that he decided to stay, even though it wouldn't be for much longer.

“Till the end of December.”

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

A few days had passed and Wesker wasn’t sure why he decided to stay. He didn’t even see Leon as a persuasive person to begin with and yet the tyrant couldn’t find the strength to say no to him. Especially when the younger man had compelled him with the word _please_. The sound of that plea coming out of Leon’s mouth had produced a shiver down Wesker’s spine and it sent his imagination running wild with the thought of Leon using that word in a different situation. Perhaps in a number of different situations depending on how that word was verbalized. The tyrant could just picture Leon with all his devil-may-care arrogance, forced down into a more debasing position while Wesker rendered him into nothing but a babbling fool that spoke in incomplete sentences. Those incomplete sentences would probably be along the lines of,

_please more-_

Or…

_please don’t stop-_

“Hey, am I decorating by myself here?” Leon snapped, drawing Wesker out of his frequent daydreams.

“…no…” Wesker answered.

“Then how come your half of the tree barely has anything on it?”

Wesker frowned. This whole thing was stupid. Leon had gotten a big bushy tree to set up in his living room and was forcing the tyrant to help decorate it, calling the activity part of holiday ‘tradition’.

The only tradition Wesker was familiar with was annually killing people.

“I don’t like this…” Wesker stated.

“You know, we could’ve been done by now if you had just helped me from the beginning instead of complaining the whole time.” noted Leon.

Wesker grabbed a coil of red lights off the floor and briskly looped it around the tree several times.

“Hey!” Leon gawked, looking distressed as the decorations on his side got repositioned from their perfect placement. “The fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“What you told me to.”

“I told you to decorate it, not fucking strangle the poor thing. The tree is already dead.”

Wesker looked annoyed as he finished looping off the rest of the lights.

“Nothing’s good enough for you.” Wesker muttered.

“Okay, to be fair, my standards are set pretty low. So what you’re doing right now isn’t even on the scale of _trying_.”

“I _am_ trying.” Wesker argued. _I’m trying not to lose my fucking shit._

Leon shook his head.

“No. ‘Trying’ would be putting effort into carefully placing the decorations on the tree like this.” He demonstrated by picking up a golden ornament and meticulously placing it on a branch. He turned back to Wesker. “See?”

Wesker picked up a red ornament ball, then crushed it in his hand.

Leon closed his eyes, visibly clenching his teeth.

“You can go ahead and add that to the list of things you’ve ruined.”

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

Christmas morning.

Wesker was drifting on the border between sleep and consciousness as he shifted in a more comfortable position. His arms stretched out, clutching onto something that was familiarly warm and soft. He curled around it, nuzzling his face in Leon’s scent. Until he realized that what was in his arms, wasn’t Leon. His eyes flicked open and he sat up on the bed, which was empty apart from the pillow in his hands.

He glanced around the room and in the process, caught a glimpse of the view outside the windows. It was snowing. The world outside was cloaked in a sheet of white ice. There were even frost ferns on the edges of the glass.

Wesker got up and left the room, roaming the halls of the apartment in search of Leon. He soon found said man in the living room, sprawled on the sofa watching cheesy Christmas movies like the ones they watched last night. Leon had made him sit through ‘How the Grinch Stole Christmas’ and ‘A Christmas Carol’ because it was Christmas Eve and it was _mandatory_ to watch movies like that during the holidays. Wesker had hated every moment of it.

“Can the cringe get any worse?” inquired Wesker, referring to the movie on screen.

“Hey now, this is my childhood.” Leon retorted.

“It must have been a horrible childhood.”

Leon rolled his eyes before rolling off the sofa and onto his feet.

“Probably still better then yours…” the agent muttered.

“Probably.” Wesker agreed and that made Leon laugh. He moved over to the Christmas tree.

“By the way, I got you something.” announced Leon. Wesker rose an eyebrow. He wasn’t expecting this. Since when did Leon get a present for him?

“You shouldn’t have-” Wesker began but Leon waved him off.

“It’s nothing really.” He retrieved something that was hiding under the rug of the tree and walked back over to hold up a small rectangular box in his hand.

“Merry Christmas.”

 Wesker paused, eyeing it for a suspicious moment, before taking it off the younger man’s hands. He untied the red bow that held the lid in place and opened the box. Inside was a blue satin ribbon with a silver bell attached to the middle. Wesker was quiet for a while as he scrutinized it in every which way.

“What is this?” he finally asked. A smug smirk conquered the edges of Leon’s mouth.

“Just in case my cat gets lost, I’ll be sure to know where he’s at.”

Wesker almost crushed the box in his hands but Leon’s laughter had filled the air and it’s quality reassured the tyrant that this was only a joke.

“Alright, I’m kidding.” conceded Leon, the smirk on his face quickly disappeared. “In all seriousness though...” He pulled out another box from behind his back and held it up cheekily.

“This better not be a ball of yarn.” Wesker warned, snatching it up. Leon chuckled and shook his head.

“It’s much better.”

Wesker wasn’t sure if he should trust those words. He put the cat bell down and slowly opened the new present. After getting the lid opened, he cautiously peered inside the box. And was surprised by what he found instead.

It was a dream catcher. Small yet elegant in its craft. The weave work was a light blue and the feathers and stones that adorned it were a combination of white and sapphire.

“I hope it catches all your nightmares.” said Leon. Wesker looked back at him. He wasn’t sure why, but his eyes were starting to hurt. He’s never felt anything like that before.

“Thanks…” said Wesker, unsure of what else to say. Unsure of how else to feel. Other then guilty for not returning the favor. “I’m sorry…. I didn’t get you anything.”

Leon shrugged his shoulders. An understanding smile on his face.

“It’s alright. I don’t want anything…” He trailed off, looking irresolute with that statement before adding, “…other then for you to stay.” He mumbled.

Perhaps he said it mostly for his own ears but Wesker still heard it as if he spoke the words through a microphone. It stirred up an internal struggle within himself; torn between agreeing to stay with the agent or cutting away like a villain into the night. Which was what he was. Which was what he _should_ do. But when he looked at Leon, he couldn’t help but remain trapped in place by those blue eyes. It was like staring at an open ocean. An open sea of emotions that were laying bare under Wesker’s gaze.

“Leon, I…” Wesker hesitated; a moment of weakness. A moment he’s rarely had in his life.

_I want to stay._

Leon waited for him to continue. His features expectant and hopeful. But before Wesker could say anything else, the phone rang.

“Fuck.” Leon cursed in annoyance, moving away to go answer it. Half of Wesker was relieved for the distraction. The other half was slightly put out. There was a part of him that _wanted_ to tell Leon how he really felt. Though he knew that deep down, such desires were futile in the grand scheme of things. Thinking of a future with Leon was like thinking of a future where Chris continued to live. And the tyrant couldn’t have that.

Leon soon came back into the room, looking chagrinned with whatever news he received on the phone.

“Sorry, Al. But they called me into work. Apparently they’re short staffed today. Not that I’m surprised.” said Leon, moving to put on his jacket and shoes. Wesker was a little disappointed that he was leaving.

“Christmas of all days?” asked Wesker. Leon gave him a bittersweet smile.

“Someone’s got to protect the world. But don’t worry. I’ll be back soon.” he promised. Then he pointed to the TV. “Pause that movie until I return.”

Wesker rolled his eyes.

“As if I’d actually watch it.”

“Well, I never know with you. You’d probably watch it just to spite me.” Leon smirked.

Well, he’s not wrong. And Wesker’s lack of a rebuttal proved it.

Leon chuckled as he left the room then out the front door. Leaving the tyrant with nothing to do but wait for him to come back.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

Wesker waited almost the whole day before he ended up going outside and walking about the streets in the late afternoon. He thought Leon would’ve been back home by now but he was probably forced to work longer hours for some reason. It actually made the tyrant rather sad. He had been looking forward to spending the day with Leon since it was one of their lasts. A part of him still held a whole lot of opposition to leaving even though being alone wasn’t something that usually bothered him.

He let out a quiet sigh as he walked the snow filled streets. All the shops were closed and there weren’t any people around. Everyone was probably cuddled up in their nice warm homes with their families and new gifts. Everyone…except Wesker.

Even Redfield was probably enjoying a relaxing day with his stupid sister. The thought of Chris had his blood festering. He hadn’t really thought of the brunette these past few weeks because he’s been spending so much time with Leon. He didn’t want to admit that he’s lost sight of everything else. His plans on world domination, his plans for revenge. Was all that really secondary to him now?

No of course not.

The only reason he was still with Leon was because he promised him he’d stay. Just until the end of December. Then he could go back to his boundlessly evil life style.

Wesker stopped in his tracks next to a large shop window.

He kept telling himself that he’d wait for the perfect moment. But wasn’t that moment now? Why wait any longer? He was at his physically peek. Nothing stood a chance against him.

_Nothing can stop me now._

Not even Chris. And why should that idiot brunette enjoy a peaceful Christmas when Wesker had to spend it alone?

Well, he wasn’t going to spend it alone any longer.

The tyrant glanced over at the window beside him, spotting his taciturn reflection staring back at him with eyes just as red and bright as the sun. Through the sheen of that reflection he saw an arrangement of fine clothes. An array of tailored suits ranging from white to black. A sudden idea crossed his mind. He was always one for a dramatic entrance. And what better way to make this reunion special by dressing up for the occasion?

Plus, the white of that suit was going to make Chris’s blood look so pretty.

Wesker smashed his fist through the display glass, his fingers grasping the smooth fabric of the suit. Instantly, an alarm sounded off. But Wesker wasn’t worried. After all,

Nothing could stop him now.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

The suit was actually a nice fit. Nearly his exact measurements. Someone had a keen eye for the perfect specimen. Wesker finished dressing in the alleyway behind a wine store he'd ducked into after vandalizing the tailor shop, and ditched his old clothes in the dumpster. Or actually, Leon's clothes. But it wasn't like the agent was going to miss them. Wesker walked back around to the front of the store and regarded the rack of wine bottles through the window.

Champagne was usually for celebrating. But then again, Wesker would have a lot to celebrate for. He didn’t want to ruin the suit, so he kicked down the door instead. He must have kicked it hard enough to break the sound barrier because this time, no alarm went off. Wesker was unhurried as he selected the highest quality of bottled wine in the store, before strolling out the front door like he owned the place.

He sauntered through the snowy streets, tracing his way to Chris’s apartment from memory alone. When he finally got to Redfield’s place he decided to push the call button instead of just breaking into his residence. He figured his victory would be worth the wait to draw this out a little longer.

“Who is it?” came Chris’s voice though the callbox.

Wesker was quiet a moment before changing the pitch of his voice and replying with,

“The mailman. I have a delivery for Chris Redfield.”

And hell be damned if he wasn’t going to be delivering a shit ton of pain.

“On Christmas?” Chris's voice was skeptical.

“It was expedited.” Wesker lied. The callbox was silent for a minute before a buzzing noise suddenly filled the air. Wesker smiled like a wolf with it's prey and pushed the door open. He took the stairs at the end of the foyer. He actually surprised himself by not dashing up them to get to Redfield faster.

But he wanted to take his time in this. He was going to enjoy every moment of his long awaited revenge. Especially the journey to get to his oblivious victim. Every step that brought him closer to Chris was a step closer to vengeance. It was a step closer to redeeming himself to the golden pedestal he stood on before Chris came over and knocked him down.

Well this time, he was going to do the knocking.

He arrived at Redfield’s door and rose his hand to give a rapt knock against the wood.

Nothing answered him accept for silence. But after a few moments the tyrant heard some movement from within the apartment. He heard footsteps draw closer to the entrance and recognized the sound of that familiar gait. The stride of a man who had so much confidence he’d never see his own demise. Even when it stared him in the face.

The door opened.

And Wesker felt a smile twist his face so wickedly he was sure it would even put the Grinch to shame.

“Merry Christmas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You think Wesker's going to use that wine bottle as a conversation starter?  
> He is.  
> but like...not in the traditional way XD


	9. Sweet Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *WARNING* 
> 
> This Chapter includes, threats of violence, blood and violence, torture, broken bones, joint dislocation, choking, and SWEET REVENGE yaaasss
> 
> Also, this chapter is mainly in Chris's pov because I thought it'd be more terrifying to experience this scenario through the eyes of the victim.

"Let's just say I'm a ghost... Coming back to haunt your dear brother." – Albert Wesker

 

Chris stood stalk still.

What he was seeing couldn’t be real.

Because standing on his doorstep was Albert Wesker’s ghost in the flesh.

It _had_ to be a ghost. What other explanation was there to justify the appearance of this ethereal apparition? An embodiment of white flawless skin that could put marble to shame, complemented by a pallid suit that flattered a tall and impressive physique almost too perfectly.

Albert Wesker looked nothing like a guy who had fallen into lava. He looked nothing like the mutated monster that was hit with two rocket launchers.

He looked like a fucking fashion model that just stepped out of the limelight for a quick visit. If it wasn’t for the burning rings of fire that transpired in those eyes, then Chris might’ve been able to fool himself into thinking this was just a doppelganger.

But it wasn’t.

The cruel smile that revealed a row of perfect teeth wasn’t a smile that could be replicated by anyone else. It was a smile that could only belong to the devil himself.

Wesker lifted his hand, showcasing an expensive looking wine bottle that was clasped in his fingers.

“It’s been awhile, Chris. So I was hoping that maybe the both of us could catch up and break open a bottle of wine.” His voice was cold and calculating, with nothing but a disturbing promise masked behind those words.

The brunette was still frozen in shock. He couldn’t recall how to speak or even move. But it wasn’t like he got the chance to, because in the next moment the bottle of wine in Wesker’s hand smashed into his face. A shower of glass shards and aged alcohol bombarded him on impact. It was swiftly followed by a roundhouse kick to the stomach which sent him flying backward until he hit the wall at the end of the hallway.

Before Chris could even come to terms with what just happened, the air was seized out of his lungs by a force so overwhelming it had him seeing splotches of black in his vision. It took him a few moments to realize that Wesker had a hand around his neck and was lifting him off his feet. Chris sputtered, his eyes and nose stinging from the wine that was still running down his face. It felt like his skull was cracked from the blow of that bottle and his ribs felt even worse from the force of that kick. He could hardly comprehend how fast Wesker had moved. He remembered the tyrant being able to dodge bullets before. But this… it was almost outrageous that his assault had just occurred in the span of a second.

It was impossible.

Him being _alive_ was impossible.

He heard a sinful chuckle rumble up from Wesker’s throat; his eyes gleaming with a predatory delight.

“I’ve waited much too long for this.”

Chris raised his hands to the tyrant’s arm, determined to escape from his clutches but Wesker was already throwing him back the way he came. Chris slammed onto the floor and came to a skidding halt. He tried to climb to his feet but Wesker was already beside him again. A swift kick to the ribs sent The BSAA agent through the adjoining archway and into the living room. Chris gasped, clutching his diaphragm in a desperate attempt to ward off the pain that bloomed to the surface. He _felt_ rather then _heard_ an indistinct crunch stirring from the left side of his ribcage as his bones shifted and he couldn’t stop the groan of agony that rattled his vocal cords.

Holy shit. The guy wasn’t holding back. The brunette managed to push himself to his knees but the tyrant was on him once more. Wesker grabbed him by the back of the neck and hurled him across the room. Chris crashed into the opposite wall but before he could fall to the floor, Wesker caught him by the throat and ruthlessly threw him again. The tyrant repeated the action a few times, tossing the BSAA agent around like he was nothing but a ragdoll.

Chris slammed into the wall what seemed like the seventh time and crumpled to his arms and knees. His entire body was aching and his lungs wheezed as he struggled to breathe. He was sure at least a couple of bones were broken and blood was running in a thick stream from his nose.

The sound of Wesker’s dark laugh echoed across the room.

“I’m disappointed, Chris. I thought you’d put up more of a fight.”

The words sent a flurry of anger through Chris’s bloodstream and despite how much it hurt, he forced himself to climb back on his feet and face the tyrant head on. His eyes quickly scanned the room for any nearby objects he could use as a weapon and settled for the half empty mug that was on the coffee table. He seized it in his hands and held it up threateningly.

Wesker chuckled in response.

“Come, now. That’s just insulting.” He crooned and in an instant, he was gone. Chris tensed, eyes darting around hastily as he waited for the other man to appear at any moment. The tyrant suddenly came into view from his left. Chris swung the mug right for his head but Wesker deflected the attack as if Chris was nothing more than a petulant child. The mug was knocked out of Chris’s hands but Wesker smoothly caught it before it could hit the ground. Wesker then tightened it in his grasp before striking Redfield across the face.

The ceramic mug shattered into pieces, drenching Chris in leftover eggnog and mixing in with the already sticky wine. A burning sensation flared up from the piercing cuts and hot liquid that beset his skin. Blood flowed from his temple all the way down to his neck. He cried out but choked on the sound as Wesker punched him in the chest. His body thumped back into the wall, hands reflexively splayed out as he scrabbled along the wallpaper for purchase in order to keep himself on his feet.

Much too soon Wesker was in front of him, slamming him up against the crumbling plaster. Chris lashed out with a few punches but the tyrant easily dodged them and shoved his arm over the brunette’s collarbone, effectively pinning him in one spot. Chris gasped at the pressure below his neckline. He could feel his bones straining under Wesker’s strength. He kicked out with his right leg and his heart lurched in his chest when Wesker caught it in an unyielding grip. The tyrant gave Chris a wicked smirk, before giving a sharp twist and pulling his kneecap out of place.

A shriek of pain erupted from Chris’s lungs which was accompanied by Wesker’s cruel laugh. He released the weakened limb.

“Shall I do the other one?” Wesker asked, as if he was actually giving Chris a choice in the matter. Chris shot his hands forward, stretching to reach Wesker’s neck or face but unable to. His hands fell to the older man’s arm, trying to dislodge the steel grip on him but after a few long moments of struggling, he had no such luck.

The brunette’s breaths were coming in harshly as desperation pooled in his gut. He stared at Wesker, who was just waiting their patiently for his answer. Looking oh-so-smug with the present circumstances. Chris kicked out with his other leg and immediately regretted that decision as Wesker once again caught it in midair.

“I suppose I have my answer.”

The tyrant twisted his left leg in an abnormal direction, until the joints in his kneecap were effectively dislocated. He let it slip limply from his grasp after he was done. Chris yelled in distress, both his legs rendered useless. He pounded on Wesker’s arm but knew it was futile. The only thing he could use right now was his voice.

“How…how are you still alive?” Chris managed to grit out after finally regaining the ability to speak. Wesker tilted his head to the side in amusement.

“You can thank you’re buddy, Kennedy.” Wesker answered.

Chris’s breath froze in his lungs. His eyes grew wide.

_Leon?_

No. It wasn’t possible. Why would Leon help a man like Wesker? Chris’s efforts into breaking free intensified.

“Leon would never help the likes of you.” Chris hissed through his teeth. Wesker pressed harder against his collarbone, his eyes seeming to glow redder then before. Chris wasn’t used to seeing him without his sunglasses and the sight of those devious irises were making his skin crawl.

“Quite the contrary, Chris. He led me right to you.”

His words had Chris going still and it was just enough of a distraction for Wesker to land a direct punch to his face. The power behind the blow sent blood spewing from his nose and mouth, some of it splatting against the wall from the trajectory. When Chris returned his eyes back on Wesker he noticed that some of his blood had speckled on his suit as well. A stark contrast to the white of the fabric. Wesker hit him again, harder this time. Producing more blood from his nose and mouth. Chris renewed his efforts in fighting back, scratching at the arm that kept him trapped. But the other man didn’t even budge from the attempt. He just hit Chris again.

And again.

He kept punching Chris until his knuckles were stained red.

The BSAA agent heard a horrible pop on the fifteenth strike and thick blood ran like two rivers from his nostrils. He was pretty sure his nose was broken. But at this point, everything felt so numb and hazy that the pain was all but a forgotten memory. His body began to slump forward, his eyesight starting to fade. Even his grip on the tyrant’s arm trembled in weakness. He was losing. Though now that he thought about it, he had lost this fight the moment he opened that door. Seeing Wesker turn up alive had been so unexpected that his mind hadn’t been able to remember how to defend himself. There was little in the way of breaking himself free. He could only stare back at the man who had reached beyond the grave for him. And spit in his face.

Unfortunately he couldn’t even do that right.

Wesker cocked his head out of the way just before the loogie could hit him. He gave Chris a dissatisfied look.

“Nothing is beneath you, is it?” The tyrant remarked offhandedly.

“You’re one to fucking talk.” Chris spat again, but his spittle landed at their feet. “You killed thousands of people-… planned to kill _millions_.” Chris ranted. “What happened to you back in Africa was a fucking mercy.”

Wesker clenched his teeth and added another punch to Chris’s face, his knuckles coming away sullied with more of the man’s blood.

“A mercy?” the tyrant scoffed. “What I’m doing to you now is a mercy. Because trust me, Redfield, I haven’t even _begun_ to properly punish you for everything you’ve done to me.”

Wesker reached up and grasped Chris’s jaw in his hand. He leaned in, lowering his voice to a growl. If it wasn’t for the present circumstances, Chris might’ve mistaken the space between them as something intimate.

“I’m going to break every bone in your body.” the tyrant whispered. His fingers gradually tightened along the lines of Chris’s jaw. And a dreaded tremor ran down the BSAA agent’s spine as Wesker’s tone turned so callous it was impossible to think that there was any amount of humanity left in it. “Starting with the most annoying one.”

Chris heard a  _crunch_ before he felt an explosion of pain coursing up his mandible.

A scream pierced the air and Chris didn’t even realize that he was the one screaming until his lungs started to burn. Tears glistened in his eyes. He’s never felt so much agony before. He’s never had pain administered so methodically before. And worst of all, Wesker was laughing the whole time.

The tyrant really was a fucking psychopath.

“It’s far from over.” foretold Wesker, his free hand coming up to the ones weakly gripping his arm. He grabbed Chris’s right wrist in a bone crushing grip and Chris would’ve cried out if he wasn’t already screaming.

“This is your dominant hand, isn’t it?” the tyrant inquired, pulling Chris’s hand further away from him. “And this is your trigger finger?” he continued, shifting his grip in a way that wrapped around Chris’s fingers, except for his index one.

Chris felt a sinking sense of dread weighing heavily on his insides. Wesker lifted the brunette’s hand to his face, almost to the point where it touched his lips. And Chris’s screams died out as his eyes widened in alarm at the prospect of what Wesker was going to do.

_He’s going to bite my finger off._

_This fucking psycho is going to bite my finger off!_

Wesker parted his lips. But what came next was unexpected. He gave Chris a smile, before his hand slowly clench into a tight fist around Chris’s own, crushing all of the brunette’s fingers together with a sickening _crumple_.

Another scream was torn out of Chris’s mouth and it continued to stretch out for so long that his throat went raw.

“I’m sorry. Did that hurt?” Wesker gloated with a sinister chuckle. He brought the BSAA agent’s shattered hand to his mouth, brushing his lips over the unharmed index finger in a mock show of affection.  “Would you like me to take your mind off it?”

 _Please no._ Chris wanted to beg, because if there was one thing he knew about Wesker, it was that there was always a whole other meaning to his words.

He was more likely going to chop off Chris’s hand in the next moment rather than ease his pain. And just imagining that happening was horrible enough in itself. Wesker seemed to notice the panic that flashed through Chris’s eyes because he let out a dark laugh.

“You look so frightened, Chris.” Wesker observed. The satisfaction in his voice revealed that he was enjoying the view. “It’s quite a nice look on you.”

Chris trembled under his demented gaze and Wesker smirked before leaning forward and taking the brunette’s index finger between his teeth. A broken sob emanated from Chris’s mouth as he realized this was actually happening.

The bastard was really going to do it.

Chris’s breath hitched in a subconscious attempt to ready himself for the upcoming trauma of having his finger chomped off. But he knew nothing would ever prepare him for this.

A shot rang into the air and Wesker tensed as a bullet grazed his shoulder. He released Chris’s finger from the clutch of his teeth and the both of them instantly turned their attentions towards the entryway of the living-room. It was none other then Claire who was standing there with a smoking gun clutched in her hands.

“Le-let him go!” Claire ordered.

She was struggling to keep her words steady but like her gun, they trembled in terror. Chris stared at her in desperation. He had secretly been hoping that she’d have enough common sense to stay hidden after the sounds of their brutal fight began but he supposed it was too much to hope for from his headstrong sister. The last thing he wanted on Christmas was to see her dragged into this torture.

“Well, well, if it isn’t, Little Redfield.” Wesker taunted, seemingly unfazed by the bullet that grazed him. “Took you long enough to show up to the rescue. Or were you hiding this entire time?”

“I said let him go!” she shouted, raising her gun to his head but it was shaking so much that she was bound to miss. And the tears that filled her eyes weren’t going to help her hit her target either.

 _“Claire, run!”_ Chris wanted to say, but he couldn’t get his mouth to work. The only thing that escaped his blooded lips was a mangled cry. Wesker threw a devious smirk at him before turning his gaze back on his sister.

“What was that, Chris? I couldn’t hear you over that broken jaw of yours.” the tyrant sneered, successfully antagonizing Claire enough for her to lose what little control she had over the situation.

“You fucking bastard!” Claire yelled in anger, pulling the trigger.

The next chain of events happened so fast that Chris could barely keep up with them. A shot rang out. Wesker threw Chris out of the way with so much force, the brunette was sent crashing through the large window that covered the back of the room, the glass fragments adding to the collection of cuts that decorated his skin. Chris desperately groped for the edge of the pane with his good hand, managing to stop himself from falling to the streets below. He struggled to pulled himself up and in the process, caught sight of Wesker knocking Claire's gun away.

 _“No!”_ Chris hollered. Even though he couldn’t speak properly Wesker and Claire still heard him.

“Chris!” shouted Claire in alarm, before a cry of pain cracked her voice in half from Wesker swatting her aside like she was merely an insect. The tyrant suddenly appeared above Chris and the BSAA agent winced as he was grabbed once again by the neck and lifted off the window pane. Chris grappled with the arm that held him, fighting to break free. A metal click resonated in the air and Chris looked back over into the room to see Claire on her feet again, the gun back in her fingers and pointing it more securely on Wesker.

“Let him go!” she repeated. Wesker glanced at her and a menacing smile twisted the corners of his mouth. His glowing eyes shifted to Chris with a sadistic appraisal.

“Did you hear that, Chris? Your sister wants me to let you go.”

It was then that Chris realized he was still hanging out of the window with nothing but Wesker’s grip keeping him from falling to his death. His eyes grew wide, the horror of what was about to happen dawned on him. It seemed to dawn on Claire at the same time because she immediately lowered her gun and ran forward.

“No!”

But Wesker was already releasing his grip with an evil laugh. Claire screamed at the top of her lungs as she watched Chris disappear from sight. The BSAA agent flailed his arms for some sort of lifeline to grab onto but it was already too late.

He’s been through so many horrors throughout his years. From seeing endless amounts of blood and corpses, to friends perishing right before his eyes, along with abominations that he’s had the misfortune of fighting against.

But the one thing that was going to haunt him up until the last moment of his terror-filled life, was his little sister screaming his name in utter despair.

" **Chris**!"

His heart dropped through the pit of his stomach as he fell towards the ground below and a moment later a crushing sensation arrested his entire body. The air left his lungs and the world turned black soon afterwards.

Wesker had kept his word.

He really did break every bone.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<< 

Wesker looked down from where he’d dropped Chris. The brunette had fallen five stories and landed with a _crash_ on top of a parked car. It was hard to make out the details amidst all the blood that covered the BSAA agent but with his heightened eyes Wesker could see that Chris was still breathing.

Barely.

How annoying. Yet not entirely surprising. Chris Redfield had always been hard to kill.

An instant cry of outrage shattered the air and a bullet rang through the room. Wesker whorled around and dodged out of the way of Claire’s reckless aim before swiftly tackling her to the floor. Her screams intensified as she thrashed around in Wesker’s arms but they soon regressed once he wrapped his fingers around her small neck and squeezed until her face turned red. Which was fitting for her last name. Claire gasped for air, her hands beating against Wesker’s arm. Her eyes watered up and strained veins were starting to sprout across her skin.

Wesker smiled. If only Chris could see this. Too bad he threw him out the window. He’d initially planned to stretch out the brunette’s torture a little longer but Claire’s appearance had been unexpected. And the opportunity that she presented to him in killing Chris so poetically was just too hard to pass up. Oh well, the BSAA agent was dying a painful death at this very moment. And his stupid self-righteous sister was soon to follow.

A chorus of sirens erupted from the distance and they grew louder with each approaching second. At the sound, Wesker’s head perked up. He loosened his hold on Claire’s neck but dragged her along as he got up to move to the window. He looked outside and saw a mob of police cars screeching to a stop at the front of the building. Doors were quickly flying open to the uniforms of policemen but one man who exited a cruiser wasn’t in the traditional blue uniform. More like a special forces uniform. He was sprinting across the parking lot, practically leading the charge, but stopped once he noticed the man crumpled on top of a crushed vehicle.

“Chris!”

What. The. Fuck.

It was Leon Scott Kennedy.

Wesker turned on Claire and sped back into the confines of the room, slamming the young girl’s back against the wall hard enough to give her a concussion.

“What the fuck did you do?” Wesker snarled in her face.

Claire was choking, fingers desperately trying to pull his hand away from her neck. But it wasn’t like Wesker needed her answer. What Claire had done was rather obvious. He had initially thought that she had been hiding this whole time as he beat the living shit out of her brother. When in reality she was busy calling the fucking cavalry.

Claire wheezed, unable to breathe and Wesker was just about to put her out of her misery when the front door burst open.

“Police!”

Wesker cursed under his breath. This couldn’t be happening. He had been so close to getting his merciless revenge. But now it had been just as mercilessly yanked out of his grasp.

Before the policemen could make it to the living room, Wesker dropped Claire onto the floor. She collapsed to her knees and gagged on the air that flooded her lungs, spittle and tears running down her chin. The tyrant dashed away and climbed out through the window, scaling the building up to the rooftop and out of sight just as the police force raided the entire apartment.

Wesker paced the length of the rooftop, gritting his teeth and running his hands through his hair. He was debating on what to do from here. In any other situation, he would’ve just killed everyone in that apartment. But this wasn’t just any other situation. This was different. Because Leon was here. And Leon was the one person out of seven billion that Wesker didn’t want to kill. The one person that mattered to him apart from world domination and revenge.

Wesker suddenly stopped in his footsteps, features changing from annoyed to a combination of shock and trepidation. Because it was then that the tyrant came to a terrifying revelation.

A revelation that Leon meant more to him then both of those things combined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🖤🖤 🖤Albert Wesker puts the (hot) in psychotic 🖤🖤🖤
> 
> lmao does it make me a bad person that i actually enjoyed writing about Chris's pain? 😆 someone help me
> 
> And as always thank you guys so much for the kudos and comments! mwuah! 😙


	10. December 26th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and kudos! ❤️
> 
> Sorry this chapter is like the shortest of all the other chapters but I'll try and make it up to you in the next chapter. 😉

“Is this what my life is supposed to be? Fighting the living dead and the bastards that make them? What's the point of it all?" – Leon Kennedy.

          Leon never liked hospitals. They were always too cold and too depressing. Even when he had serious injuries that were potentially life threatening he’d always try to talk his way out of going to one. In regards to the welfare of a friend, though, he didn’t have much say in the matter.

He was sitting out in the hallway with a half empty cup of cheap coffee in his hands. His arms were resting on his knees, eyes gazing down at the white floor which seemed just as bright as the lights overhead. He brought the cup to his lips and downed the rest of his brew just as a nurse approached him from one of the patient rooms. When Leon noticed her, he quickly got to his feet.

“You may see him now.” the nurse informed, giving him a curt nod. Leon’s heart thudded weakly. He lingered for a moment out in the hallway before reluctantly following her into the room.

He wasn’t sure if he could do this. He’s seen countless people die in the past. Both innocent civilians and those that were close to him, but this…this was different. It was different because Chris wasn’t just a friend or someone he’s worked with. He was a comrade. He was practically _family_. The same could be said for his little sister. He, Chris and Claire have gone through so much together… faced the nightmares of hell together; came out stronger and more resilient in the end. Especially Chris, who wasn’t the type of person to end up on his death bed. And he most certainly wasn’t the type of person that would ever lose in a fight.

So how did something like this happen?

More importantly, _Why_?

The questions faded from Leon’s mind as he was guided over to the man’s bed. Light poured in from the windows and from the ceiling yet the room held an overcast of darkness. Like the shadows in every corner threatened to drain all the life and energy from his body. There wasn’t any color here. Only white and grey pallets that matched the castings covering all of Chris's limbs and even chest. The brunette’s nose was in a bracing and his jaw was wired shut but it was mostly hidden behind the oxygen mask that covered his mouth. The nurses really hadn’t been exaggerating when they said he broke every bone.

If it wasn’t for Claire sitting in the chair next to his bed hovering over him in a protective and fretting manner, then Leon would never believe it was his best friend that was laying there. The man was barely recognizable underneath all that gauze and bandaging.

This whole situation just seemed too surreal. Like a bad dream that Leon was going to wake up from at any moment. But the moments passed and Leon wasn’t waking up. He could only accept the fact that this was a nightmare he would forever be living in. Worse still, that Claire was living in it with him.

“Claire?” Leon spoke softly, making his way closer to the bed. The doctors weren’t able to separate her from Chris’s side this whole time, even during surgery. They should’ve known it would take an entire zombie apocalypse for that to happen.

“Claire?” Leon repeated when Claire didn’t answer or even turn to him. She was holding one of Chris’s stiff casted hands in hers, stroking her thumb over it even though Chris probably couldn’t feel it. Claire’s other arm was in a sling, the reinforcing strap was supported by her neck which was also lightly bandaged.

Leon hadn’t been able get any information about what happened yet. Not since rushing Chris and Claire to the hospital. And even though he wanted to let Claire take as much time as she needed to recover, he needed to get answers if they ever wanted to catch the person that did this.

“…we never stood a chance…” Claire whispered. She was looking at Chris, her back still to Leon. Almost like she wasn’t even talking to him but only to Chris and herself.

Leon cautiously moved closer. He wanted to put a hand on her shoulder but she seemed so frail in that moment, he was afraid she’d shatter under his fingers.

“I’m sorry…” whispered Leon, feeling anger and guilt swell in his chest. “…I’m sorry I wasn’t there in time.” He walked over to the side of the bed and stared at Chris’s unconscious form before switching his gaze to the normally headstrong redhead. “Claire…”

 _It’s going to be alright,_ he wanted to say. _He’ll be fine,_ he wanted to assure.

But Leon wasn’t certain if those words would make him a liar. Because what if Chris wasn’t going to be fine?

What if he died?

Leon didn’t want to think about that and the last thing he wanted was Claire to be thinking about that too. She was in enough pain as it was. The best thing he could do for her now was keep moving forward and catch whoever did this.

“I know it’s too soon, but Claire, I need to know…” began Leon in a quiet tone, one he hoped might help calm Claire’s nerves enough to give him some answers. “…I need to know what happened.”

Leon’s words echoed in the cold room and Claire didn’t speak for a long time. Leon was worried that maybe she was still in shock or maybe she just didn’t know who it was that did this. Maybe the culprit had been hiding behind a mask during the entire assault.

But then Claire’s faded lips parted and her glassy eyes finally broke away from Chris to look up at Leon. Only a single word escaped her mouth in a weak whisper.

“Wesker.”

///////////////////////////////////

Leon mechanically opened the door to his apartment and swung it shut behind him. His steps were stiff as he walked through the hall and into his room, dropping his keys somewhere along the way. His head was foggy, his eyes were hurting. The clouded light that shone through the windows was nearly blinding.

Was it morning already? How long had he been at the hospital? It must have been hours yet time seemed trivial compared to the crises at hand. He fell on the edge of his bed without realizing it, stared dazedly at the floor without seeing  it, sensed his hands shake without even feeling it.

There was a name that repeated in his head the entire journey back from the hospital.

_Wesker._

Claire had said  _Wesker_. That’s the only clue she gave before turning back to Chris with that glazed and hollow look that Leon’s only ever seen on a zombie. He didn’t know what to make of the name at first but then he remembered. He’s had trouble in Spain because of that name. He’s had an old comrade try to kill him because of that name.

Now all the sudden, that name was back.

And none of it made any fucking sense.

Leon heard about the incident in Africa. Of how Chris and Sheva had eliminated Albert Wesker. Chris even talked about his experience there and how good it felt to finally be rid of the tyrant that was trying to take over the world. If Leon recalled Chris's recount of the events correctly, Wesker’s whole termination revolved around a volcano and two RPGs.

So why the hell did Claire say his name? Like he was some sort of ghost that came back to haunt them. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible.

Leon laced his fingers together to stop them from shaking. He wasn’t even sure why he was trembling so much. Maybe because the thought of Wesker, a man with a genocidal reputation reaching beyond molten lava to get his revenge on the Redfields, was a more terrifying thought then any living horror he’s faced in the past. And mostly because it was the man that was the  _cause_  of those horrors.

Leon closed his eyes, trying to block out the images of Raccoon City but shutting his eyes only made the memories more vivid. The bodies, the blood… the zombies and…Marvin.

Fuck, no matter how many years went by he could never forget. He could never forget the screams in the streets or the monsters that stretched out their claws and gnashed out with their teeth for him. It had been a shitty ass first day on the force. One filled with fear and confusion, not knowing why any of it was happening until well after escaping the city.

And the man that was responsible for it all…was now back.

Did that mean Raccoon City was destined to repeat itself? Leon never wanted to go through something like that again. But apparently it was already starting to happen. Chris and Claire had been first. What’s next, Washington D.C?

Before Leon knew it, his face was in his hands as he leaned his elbows on his knees.

“…this isn’t fucking happening.” he whispered to himself.

Leon was so wrapped up in his chaotic thoughts that he didn’t even hear the soft creak of his bedroom door slowly opening. He didn’t even notice the new presence in the room until he felt the bed slightly dip beside him.

“Leon?”

The sound of a low voice got Leon to straighten up a bit. He rubbed at his face and smoothed back his hair before dropping his hands away and fixing his gaze out the window. It was clouded and snowy outside but the sun was definitely up. He couldn't believe that he completely forgot about the time of day, along with his house guest for once.

“Hey,” Leon tried to greet neutrally, but his voice was rough and sandy from lack of sleep. The agent cleared his throat and tried again. “…uh…sorry. I…” Leon paused, his thoughts muddled with his exhaustion and stress. He rubbed at his eyes again, sighing deeply. “I’m sorry, Al… I’ve… I had to work an extra shift.” His hand fell away from his bloodshot eyes and he finally looked over at the other man.

Al was sitting beside him, looking concerned for once. Not at all like the stoic and cold Mr. Umbrage that Leon had grown accustomed to. His skin looked fairer in the morning light. As fair as the falling snow outside, but there were visible shadows under his eyes and Leon faintly wondered if the other man had been up all night as well. His hair was wet and his clothes smelled fresh which meant he probably just stepped out of the shower. Not that any of those details mattered but it was a nice distraction to keep Leon’s mind off of last night’s event.

“Are you alright?” Al asked.

Leon gave him a reassuring smile, but it felt tight and strained on his mouth.

“…I’ll be fine. It’s nothing I haven’t been through before.” said Leon, but even his words sounded tight and strained, like he was struggling to keep his voice together. Al didn’t look very relieved with that answer because his expression stayed the same, apart from the hint of guilt that flitted through his gaze.

“I’m sorry.” the other man stated softly. His words were quiet yet bare. Like he was openly confessing to something he didn’t do.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” said Leon, thinking back to Chris and Claire. The only person that should be sorry was the bastard who hospitalized them.

“I’m sorry that you’re hurting.” spoke Al. He went quiet for a moment before reaching out to put his hand over Leon’s trembling ones.

The agent wasn’t aware he was still shaking until he felt that comforting touch, which soon had those quivers ceasing. It was surprising but not unwelcomed. Moments like these were rare in their own right but it only made the agent cherish them that much more. It wasn’t long before Leon turned up his hand into the other’s. He’s held Al’s hand before but he’s never really took the time to appreciate how warm and smooth his skin felt, along with the fingers that were delicate yet strong.

It wasn’t so long ago when Leon was the one soothing away the other man’s tremors.

“I wish I could take your pain away.” Al continued in a tentative yet earnest tone. The kind of tone that exposed the sincerity in those words. Leon felt a thumb lightly brush over the back of his knuckles. “…like you took away mine.”

Leon’s eyes shifted to the other's vibrant ones. He knew he was tired but he was positive that Al had moved closer. His face seemed closer at least. Leon even thought he could feel Al’s breath brushing over his skin. He could even smell the other’s scent like it had gotten stronger as well. Al smelled…like Leon of course. He  _was_  wearing the agent’s clothes. But there was something underneath all that… something sharp and almost coppery. Like it was hiding in the folds of those clothes or even in the strands of his hair, which were still damp and loosely disheveled from the ruffle of a towel.

Thoughts of that peculiar scent faded away as Leon’s attention focused on a trickle of water that dripped from Al’s hair and down the side of his neck.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep or the physical exhaustion that had accumulated over the past twenty four hours that had Leon’s head feeling light and unable to think clearly. Because his body was moving without his mental consent. His hand rose and his fingers touched the side of Al's cheek and after that it was impossible for Leon to focus on anything else besides the feel of Al's skin under his fingertips. Leon's eyes glanced down to the other's mouth, so close to his own. His body was still moving despite how his mind was slightly reeling in reluctance, fingers tightening on Al’s face and pulling it closer. In the next moment, his lips pressed against a pair of docilely soft and smooth ones.

A small internal voice was warning him that this was a mistake but Leon hardly paid heed as he opened his mouth and deepened the contact. Through the haze of his thoughts he knew he definitely crossed the line and part of him was even worried of the repercussions that it might generate. Would the other man push him away in the next moment? Would he punch Leon in the face for having the audacity to take advantage of his sympathy? Right now, Leon didn’t really care as long as he got a taste of the other man that he didn’t know he wanted. That he didn’t realize he  _needed_. And at the feel of Al’s lips against his own, Leon decided that whatever price he had to pay for his actions would be well worthwhile. But his worries about a cruel consequence faded away when he felt a gentle movement against his lips as Al kissed him back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He protec  
> He attac  
> But most importantly,  
> He kisses bac 
> 
> 😆


	11. Bitter💔Sweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for supporting this fic! You all are wonderful! 😘

“I don't think of myself as a king. No, I am a god! And even kings bow to gods!" – Albert Wesker.

 

He was so warm. His lips so soft. It was hard for Wesker to keep himself from devouring them. His mouth curled back, teeth grazing over Leon’s skin. The temptation was there but he stopped himself from moving forward, allowing Leon to lead the kiss into something slow and chaste. He could sense the hesitation in the other’s form. The timid touch of his mouth, and the slight twitch of fingers against Wesker’s cheek made it clear that the younger man was still struggling to forget about his shift at work.

Was that why he kissed Wesker?

To forget about Redfield?

He lifted a hand and grasped Leon’s chin, pressing further against the other’s lips. If Leon wanted to forget about Chris, then Wesker was more then happy to help him. There was a small hitch in Leon’s breath at his touch. A hitch that Wesker swallowed as he took control over the kiss, biting back a moan as his own tongue sought out and touched Leon’s. The tendons in the agent’s muscles slowly began to relax bit by bit. Every nervous tic and tremor faded under the tyrant’s manipulation and Wesker took advantage of the new found complacency to push Leon flat against the bed.

A startled gasp rushed out from Leon’s lungs as the contact between them broke. He stared up at Wesker, his tired eyes a mix of surprise and inquiry. There was an unspoken question in that gaze and Wesker returned it with an unspoken answer. He leaned in and Leon visibly tensed in apprehension, or perhaps it was anticipation. His eyes slipped closed when Wesker’s mouth moved over his, but Wesker didn’t kiss his mouth. Instead, he kissed Leon’s chin before brushing his lips down his neck to leave a trail of soft and little promises in their wake.

He felt Leon’s hands go to his shoulders, finger’s bunching up in the fabric of his shirt as the agent released a shaky breath.

“Wa-wait…” He sounded conflicted. His voice weak yet fighting to stay strong.

Wesker did as he was told and stopped what he was doing.

“I don’t want-” Leon cut himself off with a harsh swallow, eyes darting around the room like he wanted to take himself far away from here. Wesker was perfectly still, his heart beating out of rhythm. Maybe Leon was starting to regret his actions.

Maybe Leon didn’t want him.

“…I don’t want to be on my back.” Leon admitted demurely. “I… it’s…” his words trailed off as the hand on Wesker’s shoulder rose up to cover his eyes. The nerves along his jaw tightened and his lips pressed into a thin line.

“…it’s just a little overwhelming.” muttered Leon, eyes still covered.

Wesker was quiet as his gaze roamed over Leon’s hidden face. He rose a hand and nudged away the arm covering the agent’s eyes. They looked red and weary. Shadows crept up from beneath them and small crimson veins stretched across his pupils. Wesker understood what he meant then.

The agent spent the whole day working long hours with shortened staff and by the end of it, found out his friends were almost killed by a dangerous individual that was still at large. Deep down, Leon was probably scared. And the last thing he needed was to feel confined under the mercy of someone else.

Without a word, Wesker moved off of him. He rolled onto his back but pulled Leon with him so that now, their positions were switched. The air left Leon’s lungs at the sudden movement. He looked down at Wesker, the skin on his cheekbones turning pink but his body visibly uncoiled. His breaths flowed easier as he became more relaxed and the sight of Leon’s appeasement had Wesker feeling satisfied despite the new arrangement.

He once believed in his unshakable ideology that everyone on this planet was beneath him. Every pitiful human from employee to business partner held the same worth as a worm under the weight of his shoe. But Wesker didn’t give a shit about that moto right now. Not when Leon was the one on top of him. Not when Leon was looking at him like he wanted to kiss him again. Like he wanted to tear the clothes off of him at the same time. Fuck, at this point Wesker would probably get on his knees for Leon if that’s what the agent really wanted. The tyrant didn’t know it yet, but in that moment, he’d do anything for Leon.

“Better?” Wesker asked softly.

Leon replied by leaning down and kissing him on the lips. There was more force behind it this time which was probably due to the angle but also to Leon’s growing eagerness. The hands on Wesker’s shoulders moved up to cup his face, fingers splaying across his skin in the soothing motions of a caress. The tyrant elicited a quiet sound as a clumsy tongue licked at his mouth for entry. Wesker allowed it, feeling Leon lean further into him. He rolled his hips up, feeling a hard indention between Leon’s legs pressing into his pelvis. A shiver ran through the younger man and his hips pressed down against Wesker’s in response. Slowly grinding them together. His breathless sigh was weak and muffled against Leon’s mouth. Eager hands slid up into his hair, fingers tangling in the still damp strands and pulling on them until his head was forced back, breaking the lock of their lips.

Wesker panted, his immortal muscles slightly quivering as Leon dipped his head down the curve of his throat. The agent’s mouth latched onto a tender spot under his chin and began sucking softly. Losing himself to Leon’s supple touches, the tyrant rocked his hips up to add friction to his hardening cock. He was only disheartened that Leon’s mark on him wouldn’t last. The one time he wished he was human…

His hands came around the agent’s waist, flitting under the hem of his shirt and sliding it up to reveal smooth fair skin. A low moan tickled Wesker’s neck as he continued to run his fingers up the sides of Leon’s torso, the shirt bunching up toward his shoulders before Leon finally shifted away to help remove it completely. Their movements on each other paused as Wesker stared at the sight before him.

 _Stunning…_ was Wesker’s first thought as his eyes drank in every detail of Leon’s chest and toned stomach. He’s rarely seen Leon without a shirt on. Only in passing when they were changing or traversing from the bathroom to the room. Never enough time to really appreciate all those alluring dips and curves of his physic. Leon blushed lightly under his gaze. He reached out, tugging at Wesker’s hair to force that gaze upward.

“You like what you see, Al?” Leon asked with a familiar note of his arrogant charm. But underneath all that Wesker sensed he was nervous…self-conscious even, for being exposed to the eyes of someone else.

Wesker leaned up. From this position, his height leveled Leon’s abdomen and he pressed in to give a small kitten lick above his navel.

“Yes.” His lips brushed against Leon’s skin. A shiver rolled through the agent’s frame and his hands fell from Wesker’s hair to tug at his shirt insistently. They both made quick work of it and in a few short seconds the shirt was thrown over the side of the bed. A hand followed Leon’s line of sight and ran down the plane of Wesker’s chest. The tyrant looked up, searching for any kind of appraisal in the other’s eyes. But Leon’s gaze was drawn solely to the surface of his skin, his eyes following a lingering path his fingers made.

Leon’s seen him shirtless before. Hell, he’s even seen him naked before so Wesker wasn’t going to put too much staunch into an enthralled reaction. But what he got was nowhere near what he would’ve liked. Leon didn’t look spellbound. He didn’t really look pleased either. He looked… confused. And Wesker was starting to wonder if he should feel insulted. He was no longer that sallow and sickly man that had stumbled into his apartment all those months ago. He’d fully recovered. He could feel every corded vein and sinew of muscle that had grown back and gotten stronger.

So why the disenchantment?

The agent’s hand wandered down the ridges of Wesker’s abs.

Maybe he was shocked.

Maybe he didn’t expect Wesker to be so well defined.

 _That must be it_ , Wesker tried to convince himself but Leon’s other hand slid around to his back, cautious fingers moving between his shoulder blades. The agent paused, his eyes growing tight as he continued to study Wesker’s bare skin. The fingertips in the dip of his shoulder blades moved precariously, almost like they were searching for something.

“Where are they?” Leon whispered, his words brushing Wesker’s face.

The tyrant went still, confusion clouding his thoughts.

“What?” he breathed in puzzlement.

The hand on his stomach moved up in a simple motion, tracing something that was no longer there.

“Your scars.”

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

Something wasn’t right. Leon would be a fool to believe that anyone on this planet could be this perfectly sculpted and muscularly built the way Al was. Without a trace of any blemish or flaw or… or even  _scar_. The first day he met Al, he had fresh cuts crisscrossing his back and front. Blisters that blotched his skin black and yellow. They were the kind of injuries that would’ve taken a long time to heal and longer still, to completely fade away. And what about that knife wound from just last month? The one in between his shoulder blades? As far as Leon could feel from his fingertips, the wound had fully mended.

No, not fully mended.

It had completely disappeared.

 _It’s not possible_ , Leon knew that the other man had time to recover from his injuries but not to this extent. Not to the extent where it seemed like he never even had them to begin with. No one could heal that fast.

 _No one_.

Something wasn’t right here and Leon’s mind was racing to find an explanation for it all. He parted his mouth to speak but a hand grabbed his lower jaw and forced his head down to meet a pair of eyes that burned brightly into his own. Leon’s breath stilled in his lungs, feeling himself sink into the other’s hypnotic gaze..

He’d never get used to staring into those eyes. Eyes that held the warmth of the sun. Eyes that held nothing but Leon’s reflection in them. Like the agent was the only thing that Al could ever focus on.

“Are you really so surprised, Leon?” Al murmured, his fingers caressing the line of Leon’s jaw affectionately. “…when you’ve taken such good care of me.” The words tingled down Leon’s spine. Despite the rumble of them, he knew it was far from an acceptable answer. But before he could take a step back and really think about this, a hand shifted down from his hip to the waistband of his jeans, fingers drifting into the hem. “It’s my turn to take care of you.”

The agent’s skin prickled under the breath that ghosted down his stomach. The hand on his jaw fell away to grip him by the hips. Leon felt the air leave his lungs when he was suddenly lifted up and forced to stay on his knees. Al’s body sank lower against the bed and between his legs; fingers coming around to undo the front of his pants.

Leon’s arousal was soon freed to the cold air but he wasn’t exposed for very long before a warm and wet tongue licked up the length of his cock. His eyes widened in shock from the sudden heat that hit him. His hands flew up to the headboard; clutching it in a white-knuckled grip. A cursed died on his lips as he choked on his own breath.

“Fu-ck!” His muscles tensed and his thighs quivered. Every skeptical thought and question faded out of his head as his brain went completely blank. He couldn’t think, let alone speak.

Al’s mouth brushed over his sensitive skin, a nimble tongue flicked out with fleeting licks until it reached the tip, where it paused briefly to lave over his slit before lips wrapped around him and carefully worked down, prompting a weak moan out of the agent. His nerves felt electrified, his skin felt sweaty. It was all he could do to keep himself from crumpling into a flimsy heap over the other man.

Al worked most of his length into his mouth, only pausing when he reached the base of Leon’s manhood. He swallowed reflexively and Leon’s lower gut seized at the sensation of that warm wet orifice closing around his dick. He knew he wasn’t going to last long. It was a battle to force one hand to let go of the headboard and tug at Al’s hair.

“St-stop…” He’d like to think his voice was anything but a dwindling whine. “I-I need a minute-”

Al went still and Leon was able to pull him off; laying the other man’s head back onto the bed. He looked down at Al, who looked back at him with half lidded eyes which had grown dark and wanting. His lips were wet and rosy, slightly parted like he was waiting for more.

He was so fucking gorgeous. Leon asked himself if this really was the same man he found nearly dead in his apartment three months ago. He couldn’t stop himself from impulsively leaning in and kissing him again, his lips sliding against wet ones and tasting something that could only be himself. His erection ached and another coveting moan made its way out of his chest. He felt Al’s hands pulling at his jeans, sliding them further down and Leon’s eyes automatically flicked over to the nightstand as his thoughts began running a mile a minute. There was a balmy weight building in his gut and he didn’t want it to stop. Not now, or anytime soon. His hand stretched out to open his drawer and began rummaging through its contents before finding what he needed.

A small bottle of old hand lotion dropped onto the bed. Al broke their kiss to glance over at it. Leon wasn’t sure how old that lotion was. He used to make it a habit to jack off before he went to sleep but ever since Al started living with him, he hasn’t put it to much use.

A brief look was shared between them and Leon felt his skin grow hot as Al reached over and took the bottle. He slowly widened his legs, spreading Leon’s thigh’s further apart in the process. Leon’s breath fastened, his hands returning to Al’s shoulders to steady his balance. Al gave him a heeding look, watching him closely for any signs of protest. When he got none, he returned to the task of removing Leon’s pants, his movements growing quicker, more eager. The agent swallowed and shifted slightly, shimmying his hips to allow the jeans to slid down. He then kicked them off his feet and settled back over Al, feeling even more exposed then before. Yet Al's gaze made him feel anything but embarrassed. He was looking at Leon like he was the most beautiful person in this world. And Leon was so lost in his eyes that he almost completely forgot about everything else in the background until he heard the pop of a cap and the expiring squirt of lotion as the last of it fell into the other man’s waiting palm.

Al sank low against the bed again and dipped his head between Leon’s legs. A touch from behind made Leon’s hands clench tight. His body stiffened and his chest squeezed in on itself. Al’s mouth grazed his stomach, lips teasing down his erection before taking it back into his mouth. Leon’s muscles started to ease up, he breathed out a moan and felt a slim dexterous digit press against his entrance. The slide of lotion eased it’s progress forward but his inner muscles soon clamped tight around it, resisting.

Al’s tongue licked the underside of Leon’s cock and his head deliberately moved up and down. He took his time to press into Leon’s slit when he reach the tip and swallow shallowly on the way back down to the base. He repeated the motion a few times until Leon grated out a rough groan and suddenly snapped his hips forward. His erection swelled and a second later, he came down Al’s throat. He felt the other man stiffly swallow around him and Leon quickly pulled away. A fit of coughs erupted in the air.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry-” Leon began to apologize, cupping the other’s face in his hands. “I didn’t mean to-”

“I wanted you to.” Al interrupted him and Leon felt the man’s finger slip deeper past his entrance until it was all the way inside. The agent gasp, his muscles fluttering weakly around it, unable to resist the intrusion any longer. Al curled his finger inward and _pulled_ , brushing up against something acutely embedded deep inside. Black stars exploded in Leon’s vision. His whole body shook and he collapsed forward onto his arms. He heaved out a harsh exhale as Al pushed his finger back in and hit that spot again.

“ _Fu_ -! …- _Ah_!...” Leon’s voice crumbled into a series of wrecked moans. Fuck, what was Al doing to him? It felt… it felt fucking incredible. And it wasn’t long until Al pushed in a second finger and curled the two of them inward to press more insistently on that hidden spot. The fingers began to retreat out of him but then returned with an easy glide. Leon cried out, his hands curled in the blankets by his head while Al deliberately repeated the motion over and over. The other man’s fingers were long, dexterous and…and _skillful_. They pressed up into Leon in the most perfect way, like it was their personal goal to seek out the hidden depths of his pleasure and wring it out of him.

“Fuck, I’m gonna-” Leon rasped. He was going to cum again. His cock was already half hard and the fact it was so soon after his first orgasm made it painful. “… _please_ …”

The fingers inside him stopped moving and Leon’s passage reflexively clenched around them. Pores of sweat glistened on his skin as his body shuddered with panted breaths.

“Please what?” Al whispered. Was he being cute? Or genuinely curious? Either way, Leon wasn’t in a sound state of mind to play along. Instead of vocally answering, the agent shifted down to slide a hand over the front of Al’s body; fingers sweeping across his bare torso until they reached the front of his jeans. Leon palmed him through the fabric, rubbing gently yet eagerly at the same time. There was a growing hardness there, heated and prominent. The agent could even feel a palpable dampness between the other man’s legs despite the layer of denim that separated them. And knowing that he got Al this worked up and wet, had his cock growing fully hard.

“I think you know.” Leon’s voice was weak and husky. He could see the small tremor that ran through the other man. With one flick of his fingers, the button on his jeans was undone and with one slide, the zipper came down. Leon’s expression darkened with lust. He knew his pupils must be just as dilated as Al’s by now. He removed the pants from his legs; legs that were as long as days and just as well sculpted and flawless as the rest of his body.

Leon’s fingers skimmed up the miles of skin before reaching the juncture of his thighs. He brushed against the hot flesh of the other’s erection and wrapped his hand around it. Al hissed in a breath through his teeth, his hips lifting slightly. The agent gave a firm squeeze and a small moan greeted his ears. He started to caress the impressive length of Al’s cock, feeling a few beads of precum drip against his fingertips. His thumb smeared across the head before giving a slow stroke down and then back up. He was just getting into a good rhythm when the fingers in his anus suddenly slid out. Leon stifled a whimper at the loss of them but it would seem there were other things on Al’s mind. A pair of hands gripped Leon’s hips and guided them above Al’s hard erection.

Their eyes met, Leon realizing just how deep the other man’s desire ran and he knew that it matched the depth of his own hunger. Without a word of warning, Leon sank down on top of him and he watched as Al’s eyes grew wide and face contort in a mix of shock and pleasure. He threw his head back against the pillows, a chain of whimpers leaking from his lips before he bit down on them to stifle those embarrassing sounds. His hands shot to his sides, gripping the bedsheets so tight, Leon could’ve sworn he heard the fabric ripping. The agent hardly noticed though as his own moans harshly left his mouth and filled his ears. Feeling himself stretch and burn in the struggle to accommodate him. A surge of pain and pleasure shot up his spine and tingled throughout his limbs. His hands returned to Al’s shoulders, clutching desperately for support. For some sort of relief. But the other man was in his own form of incapacity.

Al was panting, looking flustered and utterly helpless. His hands were still gripping the sheets at his sides, not making a move to touch Leon. And Leon didn’t doubt it this time; he could hear the sheets _ripping_ under the strain of his fingers.

Leon’s body slumped against the other’s. He groaned as the other man's cock shifted inside him and he saw Al bite his lip so hard, blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. He was so tense beneath Leon, his nerves drawn taut, his hands grabbing fistfuls of the sheets for something to hold onto.

In an effort to get him to relax, Leon leaned in and kissed him on the lips, he tasted the coppery hint of blood and the distant taste of cum. A muffled noise tumbled out of Al’s mouth and Leon started nibbling at his bottom lip to pull it free from his teeth. After a few stubborn moments, the agent succeeded and he was rewarded with a small defeated whine, though he was sure the other man would forever deny it.

“Let me hear you.” murmured Leon in a hushed tone, shifting his hips forward experimentally, in an attempt to get the other man to make more of those vulnerable sounds. Al’s back arched from the bed, hair splaying over the pillows as he exposed the graceful curve of his neck. And Leon relished in the sight of him on the edge, on the cusp of shattering. Al didn’t generally seem like a man who was used to losing his control.

Carefully, with a concentrated furrow of his brows, Leon rolled his hips down, sparking a deep seated ache and burn that had them both moaning in pleasure. He did it again, this time the cock inside him grazed the oversensitive soft tissue that had Leon seeing stars. He cried out, his hips instinctively jerking from the pleasure and once more that spot was hit dead center.

“ _Oh! …oh god_.” Leon’s voice was a broken prayer and suddenly he felt a hard thrust from Al that nearly sent him into the air. The power of it knocked the air right out of his lungs and left him gasping for oxygen. He felt his hair get pulled as his face was forced down to meet a pair of lips that rubbed and trembled against him.

“Say that again.” Al whispered.

Leon was in such a dazed stupor he hardly registered the words as Al’s mouth wandered along his jaw and brushed over his ear. Leon could feel teeth nibbling at his earlobe coupled with another demanding thrust that nearly put him out cold. He cried out again, this time in pain more then pleasure. A growing throb ached between his legs, and it wasn’t in the good way. More like the bruising kind of way. But even though it hurt, Leon’s cock was still leaking with the desperate need to cum.

“What?” Leon huffed out in confusion, his voice shaking, every muscle trembling from the strain. Al slowly rolled his hips this time. Leon could feel every inch of his manhood rub against his inner walls as he pulled out and just before the tip breached out of his entrance, Al pushed back in. The frictional slide inward was just as good as the frictional slide outward and as Al sank deeper inside him, Leon felt his erection press against the succulent button that forced his vocals to sing.

“ _Ah-! God!”_

The next thrust was powerful, borderline painful as the hand in his hair tightened and the lips that returned to his own moaned in gratification.

“ _Yes_.”

Al's thrusts sped up and Leon’s own hips desperately canted down to match him. Every union of skin on skin brought Leon closer to his climax. His cock leaked and throbbed. His inner muscles burned and screamed. He was so close. He was almost there. And he could tell the other man was too.

“Say it again…” Al’s voice was a wispy plea against his mouth. Leon didn’t have to guess what he meant this time.

“ _God_.” Leon moaned, licking at the other's lips as he panted with each of their thrusts. “You fuck like _a_ _god_.”

Al collapsed against the bed, a shameless cry leaving his lips as he gave one final thrust upward and came deeply inside Leon. A loud and harsh _rip_ tore through the air as the hands against the bed twisted and clawed into the sheets. Leon didn’t have to look to _know_ that those fingers had dug right into the mattress and shredded it open. But the destruction was far from his mind as his own climax overcame his senses. Every muscle in his body spasmed and seized up, his cock throbbed before finally spilling onto the other man’s stomach. A tremor raked through his entire being as the last waves of his orgasm washed over him. His weak limbs no longer had the energy to keep himself upright. He was falling. Falling further than he's ever fallen before. And the moment his head hit the other man's chest, he knew he had fallen hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 😭  
> Oh Leon, if only you knew...


	12. December 27th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sooo sorry this update took so long! >.< but this is also like, one of the longest chapters ;) Thanks so much for the comments and Kudos by the way! <3 <3 <3
> 
> *WARNING* tags for:
> 
> Death Threats, Threats of Violence, and Choking

"Wesker doesn't give a damn about anybody but himself." - Chris Redfield

 

Everything was soft and fluffy. Weightless. Like he was laying in a bed of clouds. Or accurately put, feathers. A nice bed of feathers even though they tickled his skin-

Leon’s brain slowly woke up to the tangible sensations prickling along his body. He opened his eyes, seeing nothing but blurred shadows in the room. The agent uncoordinatedly sat up, body still heavy with sleep. Something fleecy tumbled off of him as he rose a hand to rub at his face. When he opened his eyes again, he noticed that it was dark outside the windows. Which meant he must’ve been asleep for the better part of the day. Or perhaps well onto the next day. He paused a moment, struggling to process the present time and everything that led up to it. He felt his blood growing warmer as he recalled every detail that had transpired when he got back from the hospital and he glanced down to see if maybe the whole thing had actually been a dream.

The room might’ve been dark, but Leon could make out most of the details and he went motionless at the sight of the bed. A few minutes ticked by before Leon cautiously dipped his hand down into the shredded mess of cloth and feathers to grasp a handful of it in his fist.

He should’ve known that getting a feather-based mattress was a mistake.

“Sorry.” The sound of Al’s voice nearly made him jump. Leon’s eyes darted over to the other man, who was looking fairly sheepish behind a pile of fluff. And though Leon was still somewhat stunned and skeptical with the current turn of events, the scene in front of him was too overwhelmingly ridiculous not to find funny.

He let go of the feathers and tried to hide his grin with the back of his hand.

“It’s ok.” replied Leon. He wasn’t exactly surprised by this type of destruction anymore. Not when his things were trashed as often as they were.

Al was quiet. He studied Leon’s expression with an air of confusion, looking like he’d been expecting some sort of reprimand instead.

“You’re not mad?”

A sudden and startled huff of amusement left Leon’s mouth as his hand fell away.

“You say that like I’m going to punish you.”

Al was quiet again, this time for longer, but then a hint of a smile tugged at his lips. He insolently quirked an eyebrow.

“Are you?” the words were almost a purr.

Leon leaned forward to brush away a few stray plumes from Al’s hair.

“I’ll just take you to the vet and have them declaw you. Problem solved.”

A bundle of feathers swathed Leon’s face and the agent’s laughter grew in volume while he playfully flung feathers back at him. Amidst his own laughter, he could hear Al’s low chuckle and the sound of it had his heart fluttering.

Leon wrestled Al’s hands away from grabbing anymore feathers and pinned them to the bed, smiling victoriously when the other man ceased struggling. He had a feeling that Al could’ve put up more of a fight. But the look in his eyes revealed that he was happy to let the agent win.

“Alright, I surrender.” Al yielded, that hint of a smile still teasing the corners of his mouth.

“A wise choice.” said Leon and Al chuckled again. There was just a breath between their faces and Leon didn’t waste the opportunity to bridge that small gap between them. He leaned in, his nose brushing along the other’s until their lips reunited in a soft kiss.

A loud and persistent ring suddenly broke them apart. With a low grumble of protest, Leon flung out an arm towards the bedside table. His fingers found his cellphone vibrating towards the edge and he grasped it in his hand before deliberately bringing the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” he couldn’t hide the slight annoyance in his tone.

“Leon? It’s me, Claire.”

Leon’s eyes immediately went wide. He flung himself to the side of the bed.

“Claire? Are you alright? Chris-?”

“He’s awake, Leon.” Claire interrupted. At the news, Leon didn’t know how to respond at first. But then he clambered to recompose himself, struggling to find his voice.

“He- He is? That’s-…That’s great!” said Leon in a breath of relief. “I- I’ll be right there. Just give me a few minutes, ok?”

He hung up the phone and ran a hand through his hair. There were so many emotions that were hitting him all at once but the most prominent one he held onto was the feeling of hope.

Hope for Chris. Maybe his best friend was really going to turn out ok. Before Leon knew it, a smile was growing on his lips.

“Good news I take it?” asked Al from beside him. The warmth of his tone almost had Leon melting into a puddle and he turned to train his gaze on the other man.

“Yeah. My friend just woke up at the hospital. I think he’s going to make a comeback.” said Leon with an optimistic smile. Al returned it with a fleeting one of his own.

“…I’m glad to hear that.”

Leon leaned in to place a tender kiss on the other’s lips. When they broke apart he ran a hand through Al’s hair, entertaining the thought of petting his cat goodbye.

“I’m going to pay him a visit. I should be back in a few hours though.”

He moved to get out of bed but then Al grabbed his wrist. Leon glanced down before lifting his gaze back up to him.

“Would you like it if I came with you?” Al offered. Leon stared at him, his expression flickered with surprise before it softened into a beam of gratitude.

“You’d do that?” asked Leon. He can’t remember the last time anyone’s offered that kind of support before. “I mean, I know you don’t know him-”

Al interrupted him.

“I don’t mind. This seems pretty important to you. And I want you to know that you’re not alone in this.” Al stated, looking thoughtful before adding, “… That I’m here for you.”

A lapse of silence settled over the air. But after the moment passed, Leon moved forward and wrapped his arms around the other man. He buried his face in Al’s neck, feeling a bolstering sense of security in such a time where he was fighting to stay strong.

Being so used to dealing with things like this on his own, it was a relief to know someone was with him this time to help ease the pain. It was leaps and bounds better then shouldering it by himself.

“Thank you.” spoke Leon, unsure how else to express his feelings. “For-… being there for me.”

He felt Al fold his arms around him, creating a strong and comforting refuge that Leon wanted to stay in forever.

“I should be saying the same thing.”

/////////////////////////////////

When he first woke up the whole room was nothing but a distorted smear of shapes. He could hear voices that sounded muffled in the background, their tones so dense it was hard to make out the words and emotions in them. The constant beep in his ears accompanied by the low hum of machines made it even harder for him to concentrate.

But after a while, the noises faded into a clearer and more distinct sound. His vision also gradually sharpened into focus. He could make out colors and textures: auburn red hair and warm brown eyes. Freckle dotted skin and faded laugh lines. A familiar face.

Claire’s face.

“Oh, Chris.” Claire sighed in a fragile voice, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. She was sitting by his side, a hand combing back the hair on his head, her other hand he saw; was in a blue sling. “I’m so glad you’re awake.” A bittersweet smile tightened her lips. Her features were a twisted mixture of joy and anguish. “I- I thought I lost you.” There was a small hiccup in her words and it reminded Chris of the little sister he grew up with. The little sister that would chug her water too fast and end up giving herself the hiccups for the whole day despite being told to slow down.

He moved his mouth to speak but found them stiffly fixed in place. A set of new tears glistened in Claire’s eyes.

“Oh, Chris. It’s ok. You don’t have to speak. Just- Just focus on relaxing for now, ok? Your health is the only thing you need to worry about. Ev-everything’s going to be fine.” she reassured, the fingers in his hair never faltering from their calming motions. “Leon’s going to be here soon. He was so worried about you.” Claire continued.

_Leon_

Chris’s head was still foggy from sleep, or perhaps it was still foggy from whatever the doctors doped him up with but there was an unsettling sensation at hearing the agent’s name even though the news of Leon coming to see him should make him feel nothing but relieved and happy. Leon was a long trusted comrade. His sister’s hero. His best friend.

_‘…he led me right to you.’_

The ghost of Wesker’s voice slithered across his thoughts. And that unsettling sensation began to grow into a full on shudder. Claire flattened her palm on his forehead to check his temperature.

“Are you cold, Chris? I can get you another blanket.” Claire offered in concern.

Chris wanted to tell her that’s not what he needed but she was already getting up.

“I’ll be right back. I’ll grab you something warm to drink too.” She soon exited the room, leaving Chris all by himself.

He wanted to call out to her, tell her to stay. But he couldn’t speak. Not with his jaw fixed in a wired brace. With nothing else to do, Chris closed his eyes, trying to do as Claire said and just relax. Just focus on getting better. It sounded so simple but it was actually extremely hard. Especially when memories of last night began to break through the surface. He could see images of Wesker, could hear him _laughing_. Growing in volume, growing in clarity. Like Chris could never get away.

A pair of footsteps cut through the air. The sound drew his eyes open and towards the doorway. His heart leapt up in reprieve, hoping to see Claire already returning.

But it wasn’t Claire who entered the room.

It was Leon.

The agent’s eyes warmed up at the sight of him. And all prior thoughts of fear and anxiety faded from Chris’s mind when he saw that natural smile gracing Leon’s lips.

“Chris.” greeted the blond. Chris could hear the relief in his tone. “Claire called me. I’m so happy to see that you’re awake.” He moved toward the bed and sat down on the edge of it. Chris was honestly glad to see him and he wanted to say as much. If only he could talk.

“How are you feeling?” Leon asked. A look of embarrassment crossed his face once the words escaped his mouth. He swiftly cleared his throat, glancing down in the process,

“Never mind. You don’t have to answer that.” He said. He peeked up at Chris apologetically. “Sorry, pal.”

Chris creased his eyes, wanting to let Leon know that it was ok. And from the small smile that Leon threw back his way, he knew the agent understood.

A noise brought Chris’s attention towards the door, where a shadowed figure drifted into the room. The uneasiness from earlier soon returned to his stomach, twisting it in knots as he watched the figure get closer. When it stepped into the light, all the air in Chris’s lungs instantly went stale. His eyes widened. His whole body tensed and burned in agony from the strain. But the pain was the least of his worries as all the memories from last night flashed before his eyes like a horrific and bloody slideshow.

_No, no, no, no, no, no_

This can’t be happening.

Standing at the foot of his bed was Albert fucking Wesker.

At the sound of his approach, Leon turned around and looked at him.

But instead of raising the alarm, instead of pulling a ninja stunt move and kicking the tyrant through the wall, he just smiled and turned back to Chris.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I know this might be a little overwhelming for you since you just woke up and all, but I wanted to introduce you.” spoke Leon in the calmest voice ever. Like there wasn’t a fucking mass murderer in the room with them at this very moment.

“This is Al.”

 **_What the fuck_ ** _._

“And Al, this is Chris.”

Did Leon really give him a nickname?

Leon rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, looking a little embarrassed of all things.

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t introduce you sooner. I just… I was afraid of what you’d say if you knew I just let some guy crash at my place the first day I met him.”

**_What._ **

Leon gazed at Chris earnestly.

“Remember that cat I told you about? Well, I was actually talking about him,” Leon said, gesturing to Wesker. “He showed up at my apartment one day in bad shape and I was trying to do a public service-”

“I don’t think your friend needs the full scoop.”

Chris’s heart seized at the sound of his voice. But somehow it didn’t faze Leon in the slightest because he gave Wesker a sideways glance.

“I just wanted to bring him up to speed.”

Wesker stared at Chris, meeting the BSAA agent’s eyes with a menacing regard. Those bloody irises of hellfire burned right into Chris’s soul.

“I’m sure he completely understands the situation.” spoke Wesker. His words had the hairs on the back of Chris’s neck standing on end. His eyes shifted over to Leon before quickly reverting back to the tyrant.

Was this some sort of fucked up game Wesker was playing? Was he pretending to be civilized for once just to further Chris’s torment? Well, it was working because every moment that passed with Wesker just standing there not doing anything was a moment Chris spent agonizing over _when_ he would.

 Leon turned back to the brunette, giving him a half smile.

“Well, I hope you do understand, pal. I mean… I know you probably wouldn’t approve of me helping out a stranger from the get-go but… He’s actually a really good guy.” said Leon, pausing a moment in contemplation before continuing, “He’s really…helped me through this whole thing.”

Chris didn’t know what had gotten into his best friend or why he would say such a thing about Wesker of all fucking people. But one thing that Chris _was_ sure of, was that Albert Wesker wasn’t a good guy. He was the worst person on this planet. The person that had plans to actually _kill_ this planet. And the fact that Leon was just sitting there and saying anything _but_ the obvious, told Chris that Leon had no fucking clue who Wesker really was.

Somehow… the tyrant had pulled a veil over Leon’s eyes. And somehow Chris needed to find a way to pull it off.

He didn’t know how he was going to do that though. Especially with the current state he was in. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t even fucking speak. There was nothing he could do but just lay there and let… that _monster_ stand there like a looming threat over his best friend and… and…

_Claire_

He almost forgot that she was still in the building.

“Chris?” Leon’s voice sounded almost muffled in the background. And it took Chris a minute or two to realize why. There was an increasing beep that sounded from the nearby machines monitoring his heartrate and it was steadily going faster with each passing second.

“Chris? Are you alright? What’s wrong?” the worry in Leon’s voice was apparent through that brave façade he usually held together at times like these. Chris wanted to reach out to Leon so badly. Either for the desperate need to grab onto any source of support and comfort, or for the desperate need to help Leon and save him. But even that small attempt to lift his arm was futile. Any attempt at all was destined to fail.

“Shit, I’m going to get the doctor.” stated Leon, swiftly heading for the door.

“I’ll stay and watch over him.” offered Wesker. Leon shot one look of gratitude towards him before he disappeared, bolting down the hallway like a true hero.

 _No, Leon, please don’t go,_ Chris wanted to beg. It was no use though. He couldn’t speak. And it wasn’t like anyone would be able to hear him anyway.

Wesker was looking after Leon when he disappeared, then his attention turned back to the brunette. The beeps on the heartrate monitor spiked and they grew even more erratic when the tyrant rounded the bed and sat down at his side where Leon had been just moments ago. His shadow nearly swallowed Chris whole and the only thing the brunette could see other than that daunting silhouette, was a dreadful pair of red eyes.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Chris.” Wesker rumbled. Chris would shrink away if he could, but he was paralyzed in place by the castings that covered his broken limbs. He’s never exactly been afraid of Wesker in the past. Not in Raccoon City, not at the mansion, and definitely not in Africa. He wouldn’t have been able to go toe to toe with him otherwise. But that was before.

Before the tyrant broke every bone in his body. Before Chris became paralyzed with no means to fight back.

With no means to even call for help.

Wesker’s eyes glanced over to the monitors, where the algorithm of his heartbeat continued to climb higher and higher.

“You should really mind that blood pressure of yours.” Wesker advised, leaning in over him like a hungry predator. His arm reached up and Chris felt the pillow dip above his head. “After all, we wouldn’t want something bad to happen to you.”

Chris squeezed his eyes shut and he felt the pillow get viciously yanked out from under his head. His entire body jolted from the rough treatment and the movement caused a new wave of agony to wash over his broken bones. A weak groan leaked past his lips and he heard Wesker darkly chuckle. When Chris cracked open his eyes he immediately wanted to close them again and pretend that this was all a dream. But he knew better then to think any of this was a mere nightmare. Not when the pain felt this real.

“Though, if something _did_ happen to you, it’d make a whole lot of people rather upset wouldn’t it? Especially, Leon. You seem pretty important to him. And if I’m not mistaken, I’d assume that out of your tiny circle of friends, he’d probably take it the hardest.” Wesker spoke, shifting closer. “But, it’s not like you have to worry about any of that now.” he assured, moving the pillow over the younger man’s face.

Chris’s blood froze.

“I’ll be sure to comfort him during your funeral.”

 _You sick fuck!_ Chris wanted to shout. If only to get the last word in before he died. If only to have this small victory in the face of defeat.

Pairs of running footsteps echoed from down the hall and Wesker turned his head at the noise before grabbing a fistful of Chris’s hair and yanking it up from the bed. Chris whimpered as his neck ached in protest but of course Wesker didn’t care if he was hurting the brunette. He quickly stuffed the pillow back under Chris’s head and stood up in one fluid motion. A second later, a doctor and a couple of nurses rushed into the room, followed by Leon.

“Is he alright? Is it too late?” Leon asked nervously, eyeing the hospital staff as they checked Chris’s vitals.

 _No, you’re just in time,_ Chris’s thoughts whispered in relief. _And not a moment too soon_ , his eyes drifted over to Wesker. Even though Leon was back, along with some company, every nerve in Chris’s body was still alert and apprehensive in the tyrant’s presence. But Wesker’s attention seemed preoccupied with someone else for the time being.

It was then in that moment as the nurses and doctor checked him over and helped get his heartrate back to normal, did Chris start coming to terms with just how unsettling the current situation was.

At the back of the room, Leon and Wesker were standing side by side. Leon was looking at Chris, obviously worried and scared for his friend’s wellbeing. And Wesker… he was looking at Leon; resting a hand on his shoulder and speaking to him in soft undertones that Chris couldn’t really hear. What was he saying? Whatever it was, it seemed to help because the tension in Leon’s shoulders practically drained away.

_What the hell?_

With everything that had happened it was difficult for Chris’s brain to process the scene in front of him. Though, even if he wasn’t so fucked up, witnessing Wesker acting anything but cold and unforgiving would have still thrown him off center on the best of days. He’s never seen the former S.T.A.R.S captain behave like that before. He’s never seen Wesker _look_ at anyone like that before. The tyrant was looking at Leon like Leon was... Chris didn’t even know how to describe it.

_What the fuck is going on?_

That train of thought began to fade. His brain instantly felt exhausted. His eyelids grew heavy. He wasn’t sure if it was all the activity that was making him sleepy or if maybe the doctor had given him another dosage of drugs. Either way, he was going under and it scared him to think that he might not resurface again.

/////////////////////////////////////

“His heart has stabilized and everything else appears to be normal. We’ve upped his medication so he isn’t in any pain. It might be a few hours, but he’ll come back out of it.”

Wesker wanted rip the doctor’s gullet out. If only because she was the sole reason that Chris was still breathing.

 “I’m glad to hear that.” Leon responded, looking tired but happy with the news.

“Until then, it’s best to keep his visitation to a minimum. Just until he gets a little stronger.” advised the doctor. Leon looked a little disappointed but he understood the doctor’s intentions.

“Right… can I have a moment to say goodbye?” asked Leon.

“Of course.” The doctor motioned for the rest of the staff to leave the room to give Leon some privacy. Wesker figured he might as well do the same.

“I’ll give you some space.” said Wesker, Leon glanced at him and gave him half a smile.

“Thanks.”

Wesker exited the room and waited out in the hallway, thinking about what to do next. He needed to kill the brunette before he healed up enough to start talking. But the opportunity to do that would be hard to come by with Chris being closely monitored by everyone. The tyrant huffed to himself and paced down the hall while deep in thought. He rounded the corner and nearly ran into another person.

“Oh, sorry-” the words died on her tongue as she looked up at him. And Wesker’s hand clenched into a tight fist before he shot forward and tackled Claire into the small alcove where all the vending machines were, hiding them from sight. Whatever Claire had in her hands spilled onto the floor as her back slammed against the wall. She gasped, hand instinctively clawing at Wesker’s arm. Her other arm laid useless in a sling. The tyrant smirked, fingers tightening around Claire’s bandaged neck.

“What a pleasant surprise.” Wesker taunted. Claire tried to spit at him but missed spectacularly. “What is it with you and your brother trying to spread your disgusting germs on everyone.”

“Says- the person-… trying to spread a fucking virus-” Claire wheezed, struggling for air. Tears were beginning to build up in her eyes and Wesker loosened his grip on her throat so that she could breathe in a lungful of oxygen. She heaved and coughed, still weakly struggling to break away.

“Chris-” she gasped, almost desperately.

“Hmph. Don’t worry, he’s still alive.” Wesker informed. Her struggles ceased at hearing the news but there was hardly any relief in her hateful gaze.

“For how long?” she whispered. She knew what was up. Wesker always did think she was smarter than her dumb brother. The tyrant gave it some thought before coming up with a plan and answering her.

“That’s up to you.” Wesker stated. Claire looked suspicious but she also looked scared. Which meant she knew that whatever Wesker was planning, she didn’t have much choice but to follow along with it.

Wesker leaned in close, lowering his voice.

“You might be wondering why I’m not killing you at the moment…” he spoke calmly, yet threateningly nonetheless. “It’s not exactly an ideal time for that. And if I’m going to kill you, I’d rather do it in front of your stupid brother.” Wesker admitted. Claire continued to glare but he could see that a new wave of fear had taken hold of her. She wasn’t moving. She was barely even breathing.

Petrified.

He’d like to keep her that way.

“Leon’s keeping him company as we speak. So, here’s what you’re going to do.” said Wesker, emphasizing his threat by tightening his hand on her neck. “You’re going to go back to the room and tell Leon that robbers attacked you and Chris. You’re going to tell him that it was a group of people. A group of strangers. You _never_ saw me.”

 _And when Leon believes that, I’m going to kill you._ Because the last thing Wesker needed was Leon going on a manhunt for him after he finally got rid of the Redfields.

He could feel Claire start to tremble beneath his fingers. She was looking at him with wide eyes, disbelieving and scared yet not beyond reason it would seem.

“Why-…why-…” she hitched, bottom lip quivering.

“Why are you asking questions?” Wesker demanded. “You don’t exactly have that liberty.”

The terror in Claire’s eyes disappeared for a split second and was replaced by that proverbial rage that Wesker usually witnessed in Chris.

“Why do you want me to do this?” she blurted. And then she stiffened, mouth parted open and realization dawning in her eyes. An uneven breath shuddered through her lungs. “Chris-… I heard you and Chris talking…” she whispered, like a faded memory was rewinding in her mind. “You were saying that Leon helped you.” she looked even more horrified at the idea of Leon being his accomplice in all this.

“But- that’s-…impossible. It- it’s impossible.” she hiccuped. “He’d never help you if he knew who you-” she stopped herself, as she mentally connected the dots. “That’s why you want me to tell him it wasn’t you.” she whispered, staring through him. “He doesn’t know who you are.”

Wesker scowled at her, daring her to stand up to him.

“And it’s going to fucking stay that way.”

The anger in Claire’s eyes returned as she tearfully glowered up at the tyrant.

“Why the fuck do you care what Leon thinks?” she hissed through her teeth. “Is this- Is all this just some sick joke to you? Are you really sinking so low just to continue tormenting my brother?” she demanded hoarsely. “Or…” and her eyes narrowed a fraction at the fleeting notion that crossed her mind. “Or do you actually _care_ about Leon?”

She stared into his eyes then, seeing something there that Wesker thought only Leon could ever see.

“You do don’t you?” she uttered in astonishment. Wesker never thought of himself as an open book and yet Claire appeared to easily read him like one. He slammed her against the wall out of anger but that only proved Claire’s theory even more.

“I can’t believe it…” Claire continued, like she didn’t even feel the way he manhandled her. Like the fear she felt towards him was dissipating at the knowledge of a possible weakness she could use against him. “You’re afraid he’ll find out what you really are.”

“Shut up!”

“Because if he knew, he’d walk away from you-”

Wesker closed his fingers around her neck so tight she rasped and writhed like a worm.

“I’d break his legs before I let that happen.” He snarled in her ear.

He would never literally hurt Leon, but Claire didn’t have to know that. The only thing she needed to know was not to undermine him. He saw the fear return to her features at the threat of hurting Leon and Wesker finally released his grip. She sagged against the wall, gulping in air and rubbing a hand over her abused neck.

“You fucking psycho…” she muttered.

A fist smashed into the wall beside her head, leaving cracks all along it’s surface. Claire’s spine snapped to attention and her entire body froze up on the spot. Wesker pierced her with a harrowing stare, feeling his eyes burn brightly in her direction.

“You seem to be forgetting something, Miss Redfield. You forget that I can kill you and your brother at any given time. You forget that I can level this entire hospital if I really wanted to. So you better think carefully before opening that cute mouth of yours again because the next words that should come out of it are the ones I just told you to say.” Wesker growled.

Claire didn’t move. She didn’t even speak and Wesker knew he had made his point. He moved away from her and turned towards the hall.

“Until next time.”

///////////////////////////

          Claire walked down the hospital corridors feeling like a hollow shell. Still in a state of shock and disbelief with everything that’s happened, she wasn’t prepared for the scene that awaited her in Chris’s room.

Chris was passed out on the hospital bed with Leon at his side. And at Leon’s side, was Wesker.

She fought down the shudder that impended her bones and tried to focus on anything else but that ominous menace in the room. Her attention swiftly focused on Chris and she quickly made her way to him, heart tightening in her chest.

“Chr-Chris?” her voice was a weak whine. She wasn’t sure if her ears had gone numb or perhaps her vocal cords had. From all the choking she endured, it wouldn’t be surprising. Leon looked up at her arrival and gave her a comforting smile.

“Claire, it’s so good to see you.” said Leon, moving toward her to put an arm around her shoulders. Claire accepted the comforting touch, if only because she was too shocked and numb to do anything else.

“Wha-what happened to him?” Claire asked cautiously. Chris had been awake when she left him. Now, she was wishing she had never done so to begin with.

“He went into shock. But the doctor said he’s going to be fine. It’ll be a few hours before he wakes back up. The doctor also wants to keep visitation to a minimum. So I’m sorry to have to say I probably won’t be back again until he gets better.” informed Leon.

Claire didn’t say anything. Just stood there with Leon’s arm around her and stared at Chris, feeling even more emptier then before. She felt Leon’s arm squeeze her in a comforting gesture, an effort to snap her out of it.

“Claire? Are you alright? You seem pale.”

“I’m fine…” replied Claire torpidly.

“How long have you been here? Maybe you should head home and get some rest.”

Claire’s body immediately went rigid, her eyes automatically shooting over to Wesker with a fearful thought of what could happen if she left Chris alone.

“N-no. I’m ok.” she stated a bit too quickly. Leon paused, studying her a moment, before he followed her gaze to Wesker. He faced Claire, looking a little apologetic.

“Sorry, I didn’t introduce you. This is Al.” said Leon, “He’s been living with me for a couple months. I’m sorry, I didn’t tell you before. But you don’t have to worry about him. He’s a good guy.”

Claire felt the blood drain out of her body. A slight tremor settled over her skin. She wondered how deep Leon’s ignorance was. Did he really not suspect anything of the tyrant standing in the same room as them? Wesker had said he’d kill her and Chris if she didn’t lie to Leon. He threatened to break Leon’s legs.

But Claire had a feeling he was lying about that. She had a feeling that there was a deeper meaning why Wesker hadn’t simply just killed them all yet.

She wasn’t going to risk it though. Not with Chris in such a fragile state. And not with Wesker so close to Leon.

“I- I’m fine.” Claire assured, turning to Leon and forcing herself to weakly smile. Leon didn’t look convinced but Claire didn’t give him time to scrutinize the telling features on her face.

“I just… I’m stressed, you know? With everything that’s happened. And it’s just so… I don’t know... easy to get confused in this state. I just… my thoughts are just so jumbled up right now.”

“What do you mean?” asked Leon, taking the bait.

Claire bit her lip. They felt chapped and dry. She was probably dehydrated but she’d worry about getting something to drink later. Right now, their lives were riding on her next choice of words.

“The night of the attack… I… I said Wesker’s name to you because that’s what the robbers reminded me of. They reminded me of Wesker. Of how cruel and ruthless he was.” said Claire shakily.

“Wait, there was more then one?” asked Leon. Claire reluctantly nodded.

“I- I’m so sorry, Claire.” said Leon ruefully. But there was a question in his gaze that he soon verbalized. “When you made the call for back up, you mentioned an attacker. Not a group of them. And I’m still trying to figure out how they escaped the moment we arrived on scene.”

“…maybe we can go over the details later, Leon? Like I said, my thoughts are still jumbled.” spoke Claire, her tone slightly nervous. Leon gave her an apologetic look.

“Of course. Sorry, I didn’t mean to put pressure on you so soon. I just… I want to help you and Chris get justice. The longer these fuckers are out there, the harder they’ll be to find.” said Leon. Claire couldn’t help but glance over at Wesker before looking back at Leon.

“Ye-yeah… I know… And, I’ll let you know if anything else comes to me.” she assured. Leon gave her a soft smile and Claire tried to smile back, but found that she couldn’t.

Not long afterwards, Leon took his leave with the promise to check up on her soon. Wesker left with him, much to Claire’s relief. But even though the tyrant was out of sight, he definitely wasn’t out of her mind.

She knew better then to think Wesker wouldn’t hurt her and Chris in the near future once he had the chance. She needed to find a way to put a stop to him before it was too late. Before she lost everyone she loved. She sat on a nearby chair and put her face in her hands.

She needed help. Fuck, the whole world needed help as long as Wesker was still alive. She needed to tell someone the truth. But she also needed to secure her and Chris’s safety. Along with Leon’s of course. Claire lifted her head to gaze at her unconscious brother. Neither of them could stand up to Wesker alone. Or together for that matter. But there was a special group of people that were trained to tackle dangerous threats just like this one.

And both her and Chris worked for them.


	13. January 1st

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading this story and for all the comments and kudos! ❤️ I also love how you guys have been thinking about what’s gong to happen IF or WHEN Leon finds out the truth. Everyone’s thoughts are really so interesting and I really appreciate the time you’ve taken to voice out your thoughts and encouragement. I can’t thank you enough.
> 
> I’m trying to keep you guys in suspense, but I did add a tag to this story for future chapters because I know this tag can be a really sensitive topic. I just wanted to give a warning in advance so I don’t completely blindside anyone who reads this. I’ll put up another warning before that chapter happens.
> 
> But I hope you guys still enjoy the story and I hope you won’t give up on it. I won’t give up on it either! I’ll do my best to keep updating. Again, thanks for reading =)

 

"Chris, Jill... I hope you two survive long enough for us to have our tear filled reunion." – Albert Wesker

 

“It’s about to start” announced Leon, looking like a kid on his birthday. Wesker couldn’t fight the small smile off his lips at seeing the younger man’s excitement.

“I take it you really like fireworks.” noted Wesker.

“Well yeah but… it’s more than just that.” said Leon, pulling the quilt tighter around them. They were both on the rooftop of the apartment complex, sitting on one of the benches that faced the highrises. The sky was clear with the full moon shining down on them. They were alone. Nobody else thought it was worth suffering the cold weather at midnight for a firework show. Wesker would’ve been part of that majority if it weren’t for Leon dragging him out here.

“It’s about starting the New Year with a _bang_.” Leon stated. “You know, hopeful prospects and resolutions.”

“Hm…” was Wesker’s only reply.

“I’m guessing you don’t have a New Year’s resolution.”

“Do I need one?”

Leon gave him a look.

“Gee, I don’t know. Is there some sort of goal you’d like to achieve in the near future?” Leon said it like it was mandatory for everyone to have ambitions for the upcoming New Year.

Wesker only had to think about it for a second.

“Yes,”

_Killing your best friend._

“…making new friends.” Wesker elaborated.

“I applaud you.” Leon smirked. “I’m glad you didn’t hurt yourself thinking about it too much.”

Wesker rolled his eyes at Leon’s mockery.

“And what about you? Do you have a New Year’s resolution?” Wesker countered.

Leon grew quiet after that, his gaze steering off towards the distance.

“Yeah…” he responded after a while of silence. His eyes grew hard. Determined. “Catching the assholes who hurt my friends.” He muttered.

They were sitting rather close together, half of Leon’s body weight was practically leaning against Wesker. And Wesker could feel the way the agent stiffened in anger; could hear the clench of fabric underneath the quilt as his hands tightened into fists.

The tyrant's eyes flickered to the side disconcertingly. He should’ve known better than to ask.

“Sorry.” uttered Wesker. Leon looked at him, the tension in his muscles dying down. A quiet moment elapsed and then Leon turned himself a bit to lean further against Wesker’s chest. The heat radiating from the younger man seeped through the layers of clothes that separated them and it was a pleasant contrast to the bitter chill in the air.

“You don’t have to keep apologizing.” Leon spoke softly. “It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not why I’m sorry.” Wesker said instead.

Because there’s no way in hell he’d ever regret fucking up Chris and Claire.

Leon glanced up at him, a question in his eyes, and Wesker finally met his gaze.

“I’m just…” Wesker paused, unsure how to phrase what he wanted to say.

He wasn’t sorry about what he did but he still felt guilty. Guilty for Leon’s pain. If there was one person he didn’t want to hurt, it was Leon. And though it would hurt Leon if Wesker killed Chris, giving up on that plan was not something that the tyrant intended to do. Even for Leon’s sake. Because at the same time, Leon was the very reason why he needed to kill Redfield. If he ever wanted a chance at living a blissful life with Leon, then he needed to get rid of all the witnesses.

 Leon continued waiting expectantly and Wesker let out an airy sigh.

“When you’re sad…then I’m sad.” It was the only way he could put it into words and though they were inanely simplistic, Leon’s eyes softened at them.

“That’s almost endearing.”

Wesker scoffed at the blandishment

“Yes, well…it’s true.” Wesker conceded, albeit aversely. He looked up at the moon. Then he felt a hand brush against his cheek. His gaze fell back down to Leon’s face.

“I’ll have to cheer up then won’t I? To keep you happy.” said Leon.

Wesker mirrored Leon’s actions, moving his hand up to the agent’s face. His fingers brushed back a few strands of rebellious hair.

“It doesn’t take much to make me happy.” murmured Wesker, his thumb skimming along the line of Leon’s nose. _Just being with you is enough to make me happy._

Leon smiled like he heard those words out loud. He titled his chin up, eyes sliding shut. And Wesker spotted the invitation for what it was. He leaned down and pressed his lips against Leon’s in a gentle kiss.

In the distance, he heard a loud boom that was followed by a glow of light. Not a second later, a string of more booming echoes and streaks of light ensued. But neither of them were paying attention to the show. The only thing Wesker cared about were the fireworks going off in his own chest.

////////////////////////

The distant sounds of fireworks were still going off outside, but they didn’t wait for the show to end before heading back indoors to warm themselves up. Leon’s mouth was still on him, trailing a fiery chain of kisses from his chin down to his neck. Wesker pushed them further into the apartment; tried to guide them through the dark but Leon’s movements were clumsy and impatient. Instead of the bedroom, they veered off into the living room, stumbling onto the couch with Leon landing on his back and Wesker landing on top of him. The agent unlatched his mouth from Wesker’s neck to huff out a small laugh.

“Are you walking under the influence?” Leon asked. Wesker could just barely catch the glimpse of his smile in the moonlight that streamed through the windows.

“You’re one to talk. You drank a whole bottle of champagne by yourself.” reminded Wesker. Leon hadn’t even waited until the sun went down before he started ‘pregaming’ as he liked to call it.

“Hey, I asked if you wanted any. It wasn’t going to drink itself.”

Wesker chuckled.

 “I’m pretty sure _you’re_ the one whose under the influence.”

“Pfft… I’m no lightweight. I could drink two more bottles and still walk in a straight wine.”

“You can’t even talk straight.”

“I mean, straight _line_.” Leon corrected himself a moment too late and Wesker couldn’t help but laugh again. Leon smiled at the sound of it but then he winced as he shifted on the cushions, looking a bit uncomfortable. He dug a hand under his back and dragged out a small crumbled box that was digging into his spine. A sound jingled in the air as he turned it around in his hand. He then pulled out whatever was inside and dropped the box on the floor. Wesker lifted an eyebrow at Leon’s growing grin.

“Do you remember this?” Leon asked, dangling the satin blue ribbon with the small bell looped around it in front of him. Wesker could feel a scowl tightening the lines on his face.

“How could I forget?” He grumbled in annoyance.

“I’m surprised you didn’t throw it out.”

“Honestly, I was pretending it didn't exist.” said Wesker. “…wish it could’ve stayed that way.” he added in a mutter. Leon smirked, holding it out to him.

“You should put it on.”

Wesker became deathly silent. He stared at Leon like he didn’t recognize him anymore.

“You really are drunk.”

Leon puckered his bottom lip.

“Awe come on. You’d look so cute.”

“ _Cute_?” the tyrant almost spit the word out. Leon really must be beyond sobriety. He’d never suggest such a thing with a clear head.

“Please?”

Wesker gritted his teeth together. He had half a mind to just yank the stupid thing out of Leon’s hand and throw it across the room.

“Do you honestly think I’d ever-” Wesker began stonily but then Leon leaned up, gliding his lips over Wesker’s.

“Please?” Leon asked again in a soft whisper. He didn’t wait for Wesker to argue before giving him a warm kiss that lasted long enough to distract him. The tyrant could almost taste the burn of alcohol on his tongue and when the agent pulled back, there was a smug look of approval on his face. It was then that Wesker felt the barely-there weight around his neck.

“Like I said,” murmured Leon, running a finger down the column of Wesker’s throat before flicking the small bell and producing a fluttery chime. “ _Cute_.”

Wesker instinctively reached toward the bell but then Leon caught his wrist.

“Leave it on.” the younger blond ordered, moving his lips over Wesker’s again, but instead of kissing them, he took a detour down Wesker’s jaw instead.

“ _Leon_ -” Wesker’s tone bordered on a growl. He wasn’t in the mood to roleplay as anyone’s pet. Not now. Not. Ever. But then Leon lifted a hand to his chest. The feel of it like a steady weight near his heart, until it smoothed down his stomach and came to a stop at the hem of his pants.

“Humor me just this once?” Leon’s lips had traveled to his ear, nosing the soft spot beneath his lobe.

The fingers at his waistline unbutton and unzipped his pants. And before he knew it, they disappeared into the folds of them. His breath hitched when he felt Leon’s fingers drift down between his legs to touch the soft skin of his manhood but it only took a few careful touches for it to become fully hard in Leon’s palm. The agent’s fingers traced the span of his length in a slow exploration. They moved down and brushed over his testicles, curling inward during their slow search and stopping only when they reached the supple flesh of his perineum. Leon pressed his fingers up in a gentle arc and his caress had Wesker’s body going rigid. The tyrant’s breath halted in his throat and his hands gripped the couch so tight his knuckles turned white.

Leon’s mouth was still meandering over his jaw and Wesker could feel his lips pull back in the barest of smiles before a tongue licked up a dollop of sweat trickling down his neck.

“You like that, kitten?” Leon whispered.

 _Don’t call me kitten,_ Wesker wanted to snap but the way Leon said it had a shiver rolling down his back. He swallowed down a groan.

“…has this-…been some secret fetish of yours?” Wesker asked breathlessly. He nearly stuttered when Leon’s fingers pressed more firmly against him. “Pretending I’m your pet?”

“Aren’t you though?” Leon’s voice was a heavy rumble. He nosed the bell at Wesker’s throat to produce a tiny ring.

Wesker felt his cheeks flare hotly. He’d never admit it, but the fact that Leon talked about him like that was secretly turning him on. A film of sweat was forming on his skin, making him feel damp and sticky. His thighs started to tremble as Leon continued to message that vulnerable spot between his legs. Every nerve and joint in his body grew tense. His grip on the cushions tightened and Leon glanced to the side with a trace of alarm. He then clutched Wesker’s hand and forced it away.

“ _No_.” the word was stilted. Commanding. Like how one would say ‘ _no’_ to their pet. “Put your hands on me.”

Wesker didn’t make a move. Leon then grabbed his chin with a harshness that demanded his full attention.

“I don’t know how you do it, but you’re not ruining anymore of my furniture.” his voice was sharp. A warning. “So keep your hands on me this time.”

He must’ve still been upset over the mattress. They’d gotten a new one a few days ago and though the agent hadn't been angry at the destruction of it at first, he hadn't exactly been happy with how much it cost him.

“Let go. _Now_.” the note of authority in those words had Wesker instantly letting go. He retreated his hands to Leon’s hips and the agent smiled in satisfaction.

“Good boy.” he pressed a kiss to Wesker’s lips.

Wesker couldn’t stop the rush of heat that pooled in his gut at Leon’s praise even though he’d forever deny he was anyone’s _good boy_. Though…. if there was one person he had to be good for, then it would be for Leon. And just the thought of being submissive to Leon, of always doing what Leon says, caused an achingly and wantonly wet reaction between his thighs. His chest fluttered, his breaths grew thin and he didn’t doubt his eyes were as dark as the room by now.

Leon felt him with his hand, the wet slickness that made the motions of his fingers glide effortlessly. He looked up, catching Wesker’s dark gaze and a sly smile crept up his mouth.

“Do you like it when I call you that?” Leon prodded in a hushed voice, baiting him. Wesker’s shoulder’s tensed. The fingers teasing his perineum fell away to grasp his cock instead, giving him a few slow strokes that dragged out the rising swell of his climax. Wesker’s hands on the younger man’s body trembled and he reflexively moved them away but then a harsh squeeze on his erection had him choking on air and stilling his movements.

“What did I say?” Leon questioned. And fuck, Wesker couldn’t deny how hot it was when Leon got all domineering. But the tyrant didn’t want to lose himself while holding Leon like this. He couldn’t risk it. Not after all the times he’s broken things and killed people without really meaning to. He started to move his hands away again, to grip onto anything but Leon.

“What’s wrong, huh? You don’t wanna touch me?” Leon’s breath fanned over him; the rise and fall of his chest was steadily increasing. It was obvious he was getting just as turned on as Wesker was from this. He was even shifting his legs, widening them, so that his hips could roll up and rub himself against Wesker’s stomach.

Wesker’s own hips reflexively snapped forward into Leon’s palm.

Fuck, he was close. He groaned as the heat in his gut grew fiercer. His hands braced against the couch and Leon gave him a tart look.

“Is that how it’s gonna be?” Leon uttered, squeezing hard enough to be painful, even for the tyrant.

“Leon-” Wesker fought back a whine.

“Answer me.” Leon was still moving his hand, but at a rigorously measured pace. He wasn’t being gentle about it either. That didn’t cause any amount of disinterest to his cock though, if anything it only set him on the edge that much more.

“I want to cum.” Wesker confessed in a harsh breath.

“Then put your hands back on me.”

_No._

“I-…” Wesker faltered. _I can’t._

“You what?” Leon pressed. And he literally pressed his thumb into the tip of his erection.

“…I.”

“…don’t want to?” Leon finished for him curtly.

“I do!”

“Then what’s the problem?” Leon demanded.

_I don’t want to hurt you._

_I can’t control myself._

_I don’t trust myself._

The fearful secrets repeated themselves in his head. He was a person who never lost his control but he’s been losing his control time and time again ever since he met Leon. And the fact that he was losing it now only made him that much more afraid. Afraid of hurting Leon.

Afraid of hurting him physically.

And yet… somewhere deep down inside, Wesker knew it was about more than that. He wasn’t just afraid of hurting Leon physically.

He was afraid of hurting Leon emotionally.

Because if Leon ever found out the truth… If Leon ever knew who he was… Wouldn’t it be the same as breaking a bone? Wouldn’t it be the same as slapping him across the face?

In either instance, it would hurt. The truth would hurt Leon just as much as having a broken limb.

_I can’t-…_

_I **can’t** hurt you._

“Look at me.” Leon’s voice had gone softer. And time suddenly went still. Wesker trailed his eyes down to meet Leon’s blue ones.

They both stared at each other for a long minute and then Leon leaned up to brush his nose alongside Wesker’s.

“Put your hands on my face.”

It took another long minute until Wesker finally obeyed him. He unlatched his fingers from the couch and cupped Leon’s face in his hands. There was a silent pause that hung in the air and then Leon gave him a tender smile. Wesker could feel the curve of his cheeks shaping in his palms.

“Now keep them there.”

Wesker’s heart nearly faltered out of tempo. It was his own insecurity that made him want to lean away but then Leon captured his mouth in a balmy kiss and the hand on his arousal begin to move with the patience and gentleness of someone who’s always cared about him. Leon’s free hand dipped down and tugged at the front of his own jeans. Wesker knew the moment Leon started touching himself when he gasped into his mouth. His back arched up from the cushions and his body molded against Wesker’s in a way that was perfectly gratifying. The tyrant felt the cold air hit his erection when Leon pulled him out of his pants but he didn’t have to suffer the exposure for very long before feeling Leon’s erection sliding against his own. The agent wrapped a hand around the both of them and built up a slow rhythm of gentle strokes and teasing twists.

“ _Leon_.” The name was a muted sound between their lips and teeth but Wesker didn’t doubt that Leon heard it anyway. A budding heat was festering in the pit of his stomach and it was driving him crazy. He wasn’t going to last much longer and he was sure Leon wasn’t either.

“…I’m close.” Wesker panted between their kisses. He felt Leon’s hand speed up just a little and Wesker’s fingers tensed against the younger man’s face but at the last minute he started to slide them away. Leon nibbled at his bottom lip, not biting enough to draw blood but just enough to make his warning clear.

“Don’t.” Leon murmured. “I said hands on me.” His fingers squeezed them both while continuing to stroke in a pressurized pull so heavy that it threatened to force Wesker’s orgasm right out of him.

“Leon-” Wesker trembled, fighting to keep himself from shaking apart. It was only by sheer force of will that he hadn’t crumbled under the overwhelming emotions and pleasure that was stacking on top of him. His vision was starting to blur out of focus. His breaths came short and all he could think about was the suffocating fervor that was engulfing every vessel in his bloodstream. The hands on Leon’s face, tightened. Desperate to hold onto anyone for dear life. But a trickle of fear prickled across the back of his neck. A chilling voice in his head told him that if he wasn’t careful, he’d crush Leon’s skull before even realizing it.

The tyrant leaned his head back, breaking apart from the chain of fiery kisses but Leon was quick to follow his swift retreat, capturing his mouth in another kiss, using a bit more force and possessiveness behind it.

“I want you to say it,” Leon huffed, his hand increasing the pace up and down. Wesker inhaled shakily, trying to subside his jarring breaths but it wasn’t working. Not with the way Leon teased and manipulated him with those dexterous fingers.

“Say what?” Wesker asked, his voice nearly broken. Leon added more pressure. There was more strength behind his touch, more force. And the friction was so hot, so intense… it all became too much. Wesker’s body was trembling, his restraint crumbling… He was still holding Leon’s face in his hands and he knew he needed to let him go before he did something terrible. Before he did something he couldn’t take back. And fuck it if Leon got upset. Fuck it if Leon shouted at him afterwards. Because at least Leon would still be ok.  But just as he began to extract himself from the younger man, said man spoke in a timbre so candid it left the tyrant immobilized.

“I love you.” Those three words were whispered but they were as clear as day.

And it felt like the room went completely still. As if nothing else outside of it existed. As if nothing in the world existed except for the two of them. Here. In this small space. Together.

His climax hit him so hard he couldn’t see or hear anything besides his own loud and raw cry. His vision was nothing but a black canvass and all he could feel was a blinding inferno of euphoria and terror, yet somehow nothing had ever felt so right and perfect in his entire life. He wasn’t sure how long it lasted. It could have been an eternity or a few mortal seconds but when it was finally over, he had no sense of time or self-awareness.

Though after a while, time started to move again and his vision eventually came back to him. The room lightened. Shadowed shapes became outlined objects. He could feel his breaths coming in short gasps, his chest rising and falling alongside Leon’s own. And it was then he noticed that the younger man was still breathing. With his hands, he could feel the strong lines of a jaw and the proud set of cheekbones that were still intact - that were still in one piece.

The agent didn’t comment on the examining touch of Wesker’s fingers as he was in the midst of catching his own breath. Pores of sweat were glistening on his skin and he stared up at the ceiling with blue eyes that looked glazed as well as empty.

For a moment, Wesker didn’t realize why until it slowly dawned on him.

_I want you to say it…_

The tyrant was still weak from the toppling proclamation. He was still weak from that earth shattering orgasm. His neck felt weak, his entire body felt weak and floppy but it didn’t affect the strong deposing feeling that was kindling in his chest. He started to wonder if the whole reason Leon said those words was more because he felt it himself, without even knowing for sure if Wesker felt it too. And the thought of Leon saying it anyway despite whatever inner conflictions and insecurities he had inside, made Wesker feel more sure of himself than ever before.

In the thin fragile silence Wesker shifted. With what little strength he had left, he carefully guided Leon’s face toward his own. The agent’s eyes lowered to meet his gaze with the spark of a question flickering through them but it immediately disappeared when Wesker leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

 “I love you too.”

 

//////////////////////

 

“Are you sure?”

Claire sat stock still. Her eyes staring, as if unseeing, into a dark abyss. The light overhead flickered in the cold interrogation room and Claire blinked to try and stay focused during the report. The facilities were just as cold as a real hospital but Claire tried to find comfort in the fact that it was more secure. The medical facilities at the BSAA headquarters were miles deep underground, far from the tracking signals of public satellites or any third party observer.

But for some reason, she couldn’t shake away the feeling of being watched; of never feeling truly safe.

“Claire.” Jill called. And Claire shot her eyes forward to stare at Jill who was sitting across from here on the other side of the steel table. Jill’s pale skin and hair looked even more sallow in the fluorescent light. There were shadows under her pale blue eyes, most likely because she’d been up all night during her shift to watch over Chris. But even though she looked exhausted, her features were slanted in concern for Claire’s well-being. And if Claire had to guess why, it’d probably be because it was no secret she hadn’t slept in days. Not since all this happened.

“Ye-yes. I’m sure.” stated Claire, fighting to keep her words and voice firm and confident. Jill’s expression was growing more troubled with each passing second. Then again, she'd looked anxious the moment Claire had mentioned the name ‘Wesker’.

“It’s not that I don’t believe you,” began Jill in a placating manner and Claire couldn’t help but feel slightly affronted by it. “…but he died back in Africa-”

The sudden slap of two palms on the steel table startled Jill into an upright position. Claire was on her feet now, giving her friend a distraught and frenzied look.

“Jill, you know I wouldn’t lie about something like this. Especially because I know what he did to you and I know it hurts you to think about him but you have to believe me.” said Claire, leaning forward to further compel Jill of the truth.

“He’s alive. And if you’re really questioning my credibility, then are we really friends?”

“Claire,” Jill intoned, looking a bit displeased at being strong armed by their friendship. “You know I trust you. And the BSAA trusts you too. It’s why they’ve placed both you and Chris into protective custody. But if what you’re saying about Albert Wesker is true and that he’s well and alive, then you need to spare no detail or information about what you know of the situation. That includes Leon’s involvement in all this.”

Claire went quiet. A war of emotions threatened to pull her from each direction. She knew that by going to the BSAA she’d have to compromise some things, including Leon’s safety. But she didn’t know what else to do. The only people that could help her were the ones she’s trusted since all the apocalypse shit happened. And the only reason any of it even happened was because of Wesker. If it weren’t for him, things would still have a semblance of normalcy. If it weren’t for him, Chris wouldn’t be fighting for his life…

Claire rubbed at her eyes and blinked back the tears.

They _had_ to stop him. If they didn’t, incidents like Raccoon City and Africa were just going to keep on happening. So many innocents have already died. Too many have suffered, including her and Chris. She couldn’t allow any of it to continue. No matter what she had to do, she needed to put an end to it.

And if that meant risking Leon’s life, then so be it.


	14. The Truth Will Set You Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you guys so much for all the lovely comments and Kudos <3 I'm really astounded that it has this many so far and I really appreciate all the love and support ^_^

"So slow to catch on..." - Albert Wesker

 

Wesker was used to waking up warm and comfy in Leon’s arms and this morning was no different. He still had his eyes closed but he could feel every line and curve of the other man draped over his body like a blanket. No regard for personal space, as always. But Wesker didn’t mind. He had always taken comfort in the warmth that Leon provided even though he’d never fully admit it out loud.

Eyes still closed, he turned around in his half dozed slumber to wrap his arms around Leon and pull him closer. He nuzzled his face in Leon’s neck, well familiar with the weak scent of coffee and rain. Leon always smelled so down to earth. Just like his personality. And it only made Wesker love him that much more.

_Love_

His heart soared with the memory of Leon saying it to him. It was a moment he’d never forget. Wesker couldn't recall a time when anyone else has said those words to him. No. Not even his parents had said such a thing. Not when they’d given him up at such a young and tender age. Wesker subconsciously hugged Leon tighter. The younger blond was the only one who saw anything worth loving in him and Wesker would be damned if he ever let that go.

He felt a wetness soak into the fabric of his sleeves. Felt it dampen the blankets. An unnerving torrent of something sinister and hair-raising crept across his skin. A small furrow crinkled his eyebrows before he slowly opened his lids and looked down.

His eyes shot wide open. He struggled to breathe as the air became heavy and thick with an acrid smell that was worse than sulfur. Worse than the suffocating fumes of a volcano. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t even blink. He could only stare in horror as a shadow loomed above him. A dark husk of someone who looked like the one he loved.

“Did you think I’d be able to live with myself?” Leon’s voice was a raw whisper. Blood stringed from his parted lips and landed on Wesker’s shirt. He was covered in it. The bed was soaked with it. And Wesker was sinking. Sinking deep into the sheets. The same way he had sunk into the lava. With nothing but the flow of dread and desperation encasing his entire body.

“ _No._ ” Wesker whimpered. More like begged. Begged himself. Begged his _mind_ to show him anything but this.

“NOOO!”

He woke up to his own loud voice ringing in his ears. The room echoed with a haunting shrill. It nearly made his ears go numb.

Someone grabbed him by the shoulders; pulling him back to reality. And for once, he wasn’t exactly ecstatic to see who it was. Wesker couldn’t look at him. Fuck, he couldn’t even think properly with Leon so close and warm, innocently staring at him like he wasn’t the biggest threat to his mortal life. Leon cupped Wesker’s face in his hands, his thumbs moving in soothing circles under his eyes.

“Hey,” he hushed. “…it’s ok. You were just having a bad dream.”

Wesker’s hands were tangled in the sheets and he looked at them, impulsively searching for traces of blood staining the fabric. Leon forced his head to turn away from the sheets, tried to garner his attention to what actually existed in the room.

“Al…” Leon whispered. One of his hands moved up into his hair to comb back the disheveled strands. “I’m right here.”

 _For how long?_ Wesker agonized. It felt like there was a rope coiled in his gut. Twisting and strangling his organs to the point where he couldn't breathe.

“Everything’s fine.” Leon murmured. Like he always did whenever he was calming Wesker down from one of his nightmares. But this time it wasn’t working.

“Leon-…” Wesker nearly choked on his own knotted voice. “-it was more than just a dream.”

Leon hushed him again, hands still moving in soothing motions on his face and through his hair. He took a moment to gauge Wesker’s expression before quietly speaking again.

“I’ve never seen you so upset before.”

Wesker was silent but the visible emotions spoke more then words ever could. Leon nudged him gently.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

_No._

Yet he very much wanted to. If only so Leon could keep reassuring him that everything was going to be fine. That nothing was going to change between them no matter what.

But he _couldn’t_ tell him.

It would destroy him.

“Al.” Leon was looking at him expectantly and a sickening wave of nausea crawled up his throat as a lie threatened to breach his lips. But at the last second he pursed them shut and buried his face in Leon’s neck.

“Leon,” Wesker’s voice sounded wearily sordid to his own ears and he might’ve been repulsed at his own sign of weakness if it wasn’t for the fact that he didn’t care anymore.

“…I dreamt that I lost you.”

He felt Leon’s arms fall away, and then the younger man extracted himself from him and got off the bed. Wesker stared after him in a mixture of confusion and dejection as Leon left the room.

The tyrant started to wonder if it was something he said or something he did. Was he getting too clingy? Was Leon getting tired of taking care of him? One after another the questions relentlessly fired off in his head. But the ambush of anxiety ceased when a minute later he heard the sound of approaching footsteps and suddenly Leon was back.

The agent climbed back onto the bed, this time with something clutched in his hand. Wesker watched as he moved to the headboard and tied something to the middle of the frame. After his hands fell away Wesker saw that it was the dream catcher that Leon had given him on Christmas. The agent scooted closer to Wesker and rested a hand against his face.

“The only thing you’re going to lose, are those nightmares of yours.” said Leon. He studied Wesker’s expression again and found it in the same worried state. “What’s wrong?” Leon asked.

After a long weighted pause Wesker finally broke the silence.

“Won’t I just have to take that down?” Wesker asked in a reluctant whisper. At Leon’s questioning gaze he continued, “It’s the end of December.” He remembered their promise. Remembered how he told Leon he'd stay with him...just until the end of the month.

Leon regarded him with an adamant look.

“That doesn’t mean you have to leave.” Leon leaned forward and brushed his lips over Wesker’s ear. “And why would you want to?” he murmured.

“I don’t…” Wesker admitted.

“Then there’s nothing for it.” Leon reassured.

“Leon,” Wesker spoke, still in that quelled and tormented voice. A flash of worry crossed Leon’s face as he gave Wesker his undivided attention. “You said you loved me…” Wesker mumbled, eyes shifting down almost shamefully. “…but you don’t know every part of me.”

“That’s enough.” Leon gently admonished, taking Wesker’s chin in his hand. He lifted his face up to look at him. “Do you really think I’d toss those words around so carelessly?” he asked, his thumb unconsciously drifting over the shape of the other’s mouth. “I said them because I meant them.” he spoke resolutely. “I love you. And that means every part of you.”

Wesker’s expression tightened.

“But you don’t know what I’ve done in the past-”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Leon queried. “You don’t know what I’ve done in the past either.” He pointed out. “For the sake of my job, for the sake of _survival_ , I had to do things that I’ll always regret.” The back of his knuckles then came up to brush over Wesker’s cheek. “But it’s called the past for a reason. It’s where things are meant to stay.” he shifted closer, skimming his lips over Wesker’s own. “Say you’ll stay.”

Wesker closed his eyes, fighting a hidden battle within himself. Everything about the entirety of this situation was all wrong. But even though he knew that to be a fact, why did being here with Leon feel so right?

“…I’ll stay.” Wesker gave in to his own weakness. He gave in to Leon. But he also needed Leon to give in to him too. He opened his eyes. “On one condition-”

“And what is that?” Leon asked curiously.

“That we go away.” suggested Wesker. Leon gave him a puzzled look.

“Like on vacation?” the agent inquired.

A brief pause stretched between them.

“Like, forever.”

Leon let out a soft sigh.

“Al-” Leon began contritely.

“Please, Leon.” The sound of Wesker’s plea had Leon going quiet. Only because it was the first time he ever heard the other man ask for something like that. The agent’s expression softened.

“Alright,” he warily agreed. “I’ll see what I can do. If I can get relocated at my job-”

“That isn’t what I mean.” Wesker objected. Leon’s features became fully perplexed.

“What?”

Wesker met his gaze, stared straight into the depths of his azure eyes.

“I mean… leave completely. Live off the grid for a while.”

Leon almost scoffed in disbelief. He shook his head.

“Where is all this coming from?” he asked, giving Wesker an incredulous look. “Al, if this is about your dream-”

“Leon, please!” Wesker implored and Leon became completely still at the quality of his tone. A look of concern once again dominated the agent’s features. He took note of the distress, the hints of fear that threatened to bleed through the surface.

“…ok.” Leon said slowly, cautiously. Almost like he was afraid of setting off another chain of panicked emotions. “Ok, Al.” Leon pacified.

Wesker drew the younger man in his arms and held him tightly.

“I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ll always protect you, Leon.” _Even from yourself,_ Wesker silently vowed.

He felt a hand stroke down the small of his back.

“I know you will.”

 

/////////////////////

 

Wesker wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, locked in an everlasting embrace, it must’ve been hours but eventually Leon untangled himself from his protective arms and moved about the apartment to get ready for work.

“Do you have to go?” Wesker protested. He couldn’t help but feel like a kid getting left behind.

“Al, I know I made an agreement with you. But I just can’t up and leave my job. I at least have to talk to them.”

 “Are you really going to quit?” Wesker asked, trying not to appear too optimistic. Leon gave him a rueful look.

“I doubt they’re going to let me suddenly quit my job, especially right after a holiday vacation.” informed Leon.

Wesker didn’t look the least bit pleased with that and Leon noticed, because he moved back towards the bed and sat down. He leaned forward to kiss Wesker on the lips and fondly run a hand through his hair.

“Like I said, I’ll talk to them. So cheer up. I’ll be back soon.” Leon assured. Somehow, his words didn’t make Wesker feel any better. Leon eventually gave up on trying to lift his spirits and proceeded to get ready to leave. Wesker laid quietly on the bed, feeling increasingly restless and paranoid.

What if… What if Leon never came back?

What if Claire met him at their headquarters?

What if she _told_ him?

Wesker’s eyes narrowed at the ceiling. A catalyst of rage triggered a growing blaze of fury in his chest.

No. She wouldn’t tell him. Because if she did then Wesker was going to kill her and then her pathetic excuse of a brother. Not that he wasn’t going to do it anyway. Since Leon was going back to work, didn’t that make it ever more imperative to kill them sooner rather than later before they decided to get any funny ideas?

It was the logical thing to do. After he finished those two off once and for all, his mind could rest easy knowing he had guaranteed his chances at having the perfect life with Leon.

“I’m off.” Leon announced, stopping by the bed again to lean down and give Wesker one last kiss goodbye. He offhandedly fingered the small bell that had remained tied around Wesker’s neck since last night. Leon smiled into the kiss. “Leave this on. And don’t take it off unless I tell you to.” His comment left Wesker feeling flushed and he realized it was Leon’s way of keeping him appeased until he returned home.

“And by the way, don’t shred the curtains while I’m gone.” snarked Leon over his shoulder.

“Damn it, Leon, I’m not your fucking cat!” Wesker snapped. He heard a resounding laugh before the front door clicked shut, leaving him in the silence of the apartment.

Not a moment later the tyrant got out of bed. If he was really going to follow through with his plans to kill Chris and Claire, then he didn’t have any time to waste.

 

/////////////////////

 

The hospital was cold and bright. Too fucking bright. Wesker squinted his eyes against the harsh luminosity. Everywhere he looked he saw nothing but the color white and it was giving him a headache. If only he had his sunglasses. He wasn’t used to exposing his sensitive eyes to this degree. He almost blindly ran into a passing nurse and he uttered an expletive as he shouldered her out of the way.

He needed to focus. But his head felt so dizzy and hindered with thoughts of Leon possibly finding out the truth, that he could barely even remember what room number Chris was in.

 _Kill him… I have to kill him…_ Wesker reminded himself. He should’ve done away with Chris ages ago. Should’ve just broken his neck and be finished with it. But no, he had wanted to torture the brunette. Had wanted to make him endlessly suffer. Now look where his sadism had gotten him. It had gotten him a headache and an ever growing fear of losing the one person he cared about.

Wesker finally made it to Chris’s room. He was positive that this was the one. After all, he wouldn’t so easily forget the location of his arch rival. He rounded the doorway and came to a sudden halt.

He felt the blood drain out of his face, turning his skin pasty white.

This wasn’t possible. He was so sure this was the room. He was certain this was Chris’s room.

Only Chris wasn’t here.

The bed was empty.

Wesker tried to remain calm but his heart was starting to palpitate irregularly. The air in his lungs felt thin yet also thick. He needed to… he needed…

He needed a miracle.

The tyrant dashed out of the room and made a beeline for the front desk. He nearly made the receptionist jump out of her skin.

“What happened to the patient Chris Redfield?” Wesker demanded. The receptionist looked up at him in slight confusion and slight startlement.

“I’m sorry…are you a family member?” she asked.

“…no.”

“Then I’m afraid I can’t disclose that information. Patient confidentiality-”

Wesker interjected by grabbing the phone from behind the desk and throwing it across the hall. Gasps arouse from a few nearby people, both patients and employees alike. Wesker then reached down and grabbed the receptionist by the neck, lifting her well off her chair and dragging her over the desk.

“Do you think I’m messing around?” he snarled, eyes glaring into hers. “I asked where he is. So where the fuck is he?!”

“Call security!” one of the staff shouted but Wesker was past caring at this point. There was only one thing he was more worried about then getting caught in that moment. And that was Chris Redfield’s whereabouts.

The girl in his grasp wheezed and stammered and Wesker dropped her on the floor where she landed in a heap of shaking limbs.

“Where is he?” Wesker repeated.

“I- I don’t know!” she squeaked desperately, tears leaking from her eyes. “A group of men came and moved him out of the room the other day. They said he was getting transferred to a private healthcare facility.”

_Fuck._

He didn’t want to think about what this meant. But it was impossible not assume that it was the BSAA coming in to hide one of their own. With a snarl, he turned away and bolted out of the hospital before anyone could stop him.

Once he was out on the streets his mind fell into a whirlwind of turmoil. He wasn’t sure what to do. If the BSAA where really the ones that had gotten to Chris, then Claire must have told them the truth about their injuries. And if the BSAA knew the truth then….

Wesker’s heart sank.

Leon was already at work.

The tyrant wasn’t sure what the organization was going to do to Leon. He wasn’t sure what they were even going to _tell_ him. But he had a bad feeling that today wasn’t going to end well. He needed to think of something fast.

Maybe he still had time. Time to go to their headquarters.

 _And do what exactly?_  the rational part of his brain catechized. _Are you just going to bust in and kill everyone there? Just to take Leon away?_

Yeah, that probably wasn’t going to go over very well with the younger blond. And if Wesker went to their headquarters now, there was no telling if they’d be waiting there ready for him. He couldn’t take on an entire organization by himself. Especially if they were already on high alert.

Wesker torpidly walked down the pavement as the hopelessness of the situation hit him. There was really only one thing he could do.

Go home.

He tried to think positive. Tried to quell his jittering nerves that were growing more unstable within the hour.

If Chris had been moved the other day then why didn’t the BSAA come pounding on Leon’s door yesterday?

Maybe Chris really did get moved to a private facility. That didn’t mean Claire told anyone the truth. Maybe she just didn’t want to be in a place that Wesker could find. Maybe she was just scared.

Maybe she really did keep her mouth shut. Maybe today was going to be like any other normal day. Maybe Leon would come home and everything would be the same.

Maybe…

Maybe it was just wishful thinking. But it was all Wesker had at the moment.

////////////////

When he neared the apartment he was already tired. During his walk, his mind had exhausted every possible outcome of what could happen after Leon got home or...if it was the BSAA that decided to come in his place. Most of those outcomes didn’t end well but Wesker tried to hold on to the ones that did. It was early in the afternoon which meant he probably had some time to himself to think about what to do.

He entered the foyer and took the elevator at the end of the hall.

He could still try and convince Leon to just drop everything and come with him. Live a life far from the eyes of the public where it was just the two of them. Would Leon really be willing to go?

The elevator dinged and Wesker made his way to Leon’s door.

In the best case scenario, if Leon still didn't know the truth, then Wesker had a couple of hours to figure out how to persuade him to leave this place. Whatever he chose to say, he was sure Leon would listen to him. Leon had always listened to him. Wesker held onto the hope that this time would be no different. And even if Leon _did_ know the truth... then it shouldn't matter, should it? Because hadn’t Leon said that he loved Wesker? Including every part of him?

 _Only because he didn’t know who you really are_ , that voice was back and it was dragging Wesker further into the pit of despair. The tyrant assured himself that the voice was wrong. Leon wasn’t a liar. He was always so honest.

_And what do you think he’s going to do once he realizes that you were the one being dishonest?_

Wesker shook his head. He wouldn’t think about that now. he still had some time. He could form up a plan. He could still make it right somehow.

He opened the door and paced down the hall. His mind so lost in thought that he almost didn’t notice the slight rustle coming from within the kitchen. He paused just outside the archway and turned his head to look inside.

The sight of Leon had him instantly freezing in place. The agent was by the sink, turned away from Wesker, pouring himself a glass of some sort of liquid. Wesker could see the hard lines of his back through the tight fabric of his shirt. Like a stiff image of unresolved tension.

Silence gripped every part of the room and it grew so loud that it was almost deafening. Even though Leon wasn’t facing him, Wesker sensed he knew where he was. He couldn’t help but feel a disturbing slither of fear snaring the sides of his ribcage. The paranoia restricted the air in his throat. He tried to console himself that Leon being here didn’t mean anything bad. If anything, it was a good thing. Wasn’t it? Just as long as it wasn’t the BSAA. If they weren’t here then maybe that meant he’d been panicking over nothing the whole day.

Because if Leon really did know the truth, he wouldn’t have come back alone.

Would he?

Maybe he _did_ know the truth. And in the end, still accepted Wesker for it.

_Wishful thinking._

“Leon,” Wesker greeted coolly, but he could hear the tiniest bit of apprehension in his own voice. He just hoped Leon didn’t notice. “…you’re back.” he noted, calmly imparting he hadn’t expected to see him yet.

“I told you I’d be back soon.” said Leon. Wesker tried to pick up on anything in his tone. Any hint of suspicion or anger. But there was nothing in it that gave away what he was thinking. Which was just as bad, if not worse, in Wesker’s opinion. He tried to stay rational. It wouldn’t do well to lose his composure.

“I’m happy that you are.” he said, but he knew nothing in his words sounded happy in the slightest.

“Where did you go?” asked Leon. He still wasn’t facing him. Still drinking whatever it was that was in his hand.

Wesker swallowed, his own throat suddenly feeling too dry.

“…for a walk.”

Leon made a noncommittal sound and the silence crept back into the air for a moment before it was broken after another sip of his drink.

“How was it?”

Wesker could feel the muscles in his jaw tighten as he forced his mouth to work.

“Tiring.”

This whole conversion was getting tiring. It was too artificial. Too impersonal. And Wesker wanted to believe that his assumptions stemmed from his own inner fears instead of the visible signs that were right in front of him.

Leon turned around and Wesker caught sight of his expression.

There was nothing. Nothing there that was readable. Only a slight tiredness that threatened to overshadow his features. He then gave Wesker a smile. One that the tyrant was long familiar with but it seemed chilling when the warmth of it didn’t reach his eyes. Leon tilted his head toward the kitchen island, where a paper bag was sitting there waiting for him.

“I brought you something.” said Leon. The small hairs on the back of Wesker's neck prickled his skin.

He’s not sure if he’s ever been so afraid like he was afraid right now. In all his years of superiority and power, he never once doubted the fact that he wasn’t afraid of anything. It was only after falling into a pit of lava that he started feeling scared. Scared of losing. To Chris of all people.

And that fear of losing was still apparent even now. But not fear of losing to Chris. Just fear of losing Leon.

“Well?” Leon spoke. His tone never changing from its flat resonance.

“I’m not hungry.” said Wesker. He knew his voice was betraying. Betraying all the emotions he was fighting to keep hidden from his face.

Leon’s features tightened ever so slightly. Wesker could’ve blinked and missed the change completely.

“It’s your favorite.”

The discomfort felt like a slow knife sliding into his gut. Leon knew that the other man didn’t have a favorite type of food. But Wesker slowly resigned himself to walk over to the counter anyway.

That metaphorical knife was twisting deeper and deeper inside him with each step. He eventually came to a stop by the island, staring at the paper bag like it was a ticking time bomb.

He didn’t want to open it. The horrible feeling in his stomach was wrenching through his entrails, threatening to tear him apart from the inside out. He reluctantly rose a hand and slid it into the paper bag. What his fingertips touched wasn’t food.

Only paper.

He pulled the stack out and a couple of loose pictures fluttered onto the countertop. Wesker went motionless. His eyes flickering from one random picture to the next.

They were pictures from the incidences in Africa. Infected corpses tagged as evidence to a heinous crime. Another picture was taken of Raccoon City, in the wake of the chaos that had transpired after the virus was unleashed. He eyes shifted to the document in his hand. A file, labeled with the name _Albert Wesker,_  trembled in his fingers. Pinned on the cover of the file was a picture of him. One clear, unmistakable and damning photo to identify who he was.

An earsplitting crash ruptured through the room as the drink in Leon’s hand sailed past his head and smashed into the wall behind him. It exploded into a burst of glass. The throw was so powerful that some of the shards even rained on Wesker’s shirt and hair.

The tyrant looked back at Leon. Awareness was like a bone-chilling grip on every limb. It froze him in place at the sudden display of violence. Then again, he couldn’t really blame the agent at this point.

Leon was staring at him. And finally there were traces of emotion surging over his face. All mixing in a chaotic blend of anger, pain and betrayal. His eyes were red with it, his lips were twisted with it, as a string of harsh and gritted words forced themselves through his teeth.

“ _You fucking lied to me_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read the warning tags for next chapter.
> 
> Because there's trouble in paradise 😢


	15. You're Fucking Crazy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *WARNING*
> 
> This chapter contains: Blood and Suicide

"When I was a kid, I used to think about what kind of man I'd grow up to be. I never thought my life would turn out this way." – Leon Kennedy

 

          Leon would’ve said that he was having a good day up until the moment he stepped into the office.

“What the hell?” Leon resisted as two large men suddenly appeared on either side of him and grabbed both of his arms. A beat later they had forced him (more like dragged him) spitting and kicking all the way to an underground interrogation room before throwing him inside without any preamble. He hadn’t even caught his breath before the heavy door swung open to reveal two people walking in.

“O’Brian?” queried Leon, surprised and confused at the unexpected appearance of the former BSAA director, now adviser. And right behind him was Claire.

“Claire?” This time Leon’s tone was beyond bewildered, more like alarmed at the sight of her. But he kept a level head as he looked from her to O’Brian.

“Agent Kennedy, have a seat.” O’Brian ordered.

Leon hesitated but resigned in walking over towards the metal table in the center of the room to slowly slide himself into a seat. He then casually leaned back in his chair to show them he wasn’t perturbed by the situation at all, even though he secretly was.

“You must have quite the mission for me if you’re gonna drag me all the way down here without so much as a salutation… or breakfast.” he quipped while both O’Brian and Claire sat down across from him.

“It’s not about a mission.” replied Claire, her voice was unusually stringent and vacuous.

She was keeping herself expressionless in front of him. And that was the first thing that set off warning bells in Leon’s head. His features hardened and he sat up a little straighter as he tried to discern what the problem was. But he wasn’t a mind reader and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what any of this could possibly be about.

“Then I don’t understand…” said Leon, his tone cagey. He hadn’t done anything wrong.

O’Brian tossed a file onto the metal table between them. It would appear that he wasn’t in the mood to keep him in suspense.

Leon became still. He continued staring at the both of them for another few moments until he cautiously leaned forward to look down at the file.

For a while Leon didn’t move. He didn’t even speak. He just _looked_.

And looked.

And continued to look for what seemed like hours at the folder in front of him. At the picture pinned on the corner of it, along with the name that labeled it’s edges.

“What the fuck is this?” Leon struggled to articulate, his throat feeling asphyxiated, feeling like there wasn’t enough oxygen in his lungs to talk properly.

At first Claire and O’Brian didn’t answer but after a long pause O’Brian spoke up in a stern and judicious tone.

“It’s Albert Wesker.”

A shaky intake of air left Leon’s lungs, one that shuddered in disbelief. He shook his head, his eyes flickering up to Claire’s. And he then understood why she was here and not an interrogator.

“No. No, that’s not-”

“Leon-” but Claire didn’t get the chance to finish.

“Is this a fucking joke?” Leon interrupted. He stood up out of his seat, backing away from the table. He could feel a sting in his eyes, could feel a chill crawling along his skin.

“No.” Claire answered evenly. “I think you know it’s not.”

His jaw was aching and it was then he realized his teeth were painfully clenched tight.

“No…”

“Leon-”

“It’s not possible.”

“Sit back down.” O’Brian ordered.

“No!” Leon snapped and the room fell into a foreboding silence. Both Claire and O’Brian stared at him, tense and cautious eyes gauging him charily. Leon shook his head before leveling them with an adamant glare. “No. I’m not going to sit down. Because you’re going to tell me exactly what the fuck is going on here.”

////////////////

“Leon!” Claire’s voice called after him as he slammed open the door and stormed out.

He walked briskly along the length of the hall, unable to spend one more minute in that room. Not after standing in the corner like a petrified rabbit for over an hour as he hung onto every word O’Brian and Claire had to say to him. Every word, every detail, about the man he once thought he knew.

He could feel the bitter taste of bile burning the back of his throat and he stumbled along the halls in desperate search for a bathroom. He just passed an observation window when he suddenly stopped in his tracks. His eyes catching the site of a haunting scene through the translucent surface. And all the air was immediately stolen from his lungs.

Chris was in there, hooked up to an array of machines that monitored his weak beating heart. Jill was inside. Standing guard over him. She looked so pale and worried as she watched her partner’s chest shallowly rise up and down in his deathlike slumber.

Leon heard a soft pair of footsteps draw closer to him and he couldn’t help but choke on the next coming words that left his mouth.

“…this is my fault isn’t it?” he whispered.

“No, Leon-” Claire started,

“Let’s face it.” Leon cut in, never taking his eyes off the window. “If I hadn’t helped that psychopath then none of this would’ve happened.”

His thoughts shifted to all the moments he helped Al get better. All the moments he fed him, bandaged him, reassured him… All the moments they spent together. All the moments they talked, and laughed, and bickered… and… all the moments they shared each other’s heat… all those passionate and tender moments…

Leon’s breath hitched at the memory of their first time. The time he came back from the hospital, the time when Al comforted him…

No, not Al.

Leon’s teeth harshly scraped together as the reality of the situation crashed over him like the aggressive waves of an ocean.

 _Wesker_. It had been _Wesker._

Wesker, who broke every bone in Chris’s body. Wesker, who manipulated Leon and then fucked him afterwards like there hadn’t been blood on his hands. The tyrant must have been so proud of himself.

And Leon’s never felt so sick in his life.

“I let this happen…” Leon unsteadily breathed out, his vision blurring as the tears welled up in his eyes.

“You can make it right...” O’Brian’s voice suddenly came from behind him. Leon had been so wrapped up in his own head that he hadn’t even heard his approach. “You might be the only one that can.”

“What do you mean?” Leon asked in an emotionless voice, staring distantly through the window.

“Wesker seems to let his guard down around you.” Claire spoke reluctantly. “I noticed it at the hospital… I don’t think he wants to hurt you, Leon.”

A cynical scoff imparted Leon’s lips.

“Oh really?”

“It’s our best option.” chipped in O’Brian. “And might I add, one of your _only_ options.”

Leon turned towards him. Eyes sharp, trying to analyze the meaning of those words. O’Brian’s expression never wavered from its rigid conviction.

“What do you mean?” demanded Leon.

“I’ll be perfectly frank with you, Kennedy. There’s only two ways this can go. You can either stay here in a cell for sheltering a Bio-terrorist. OR you can help us take him down.”

“And how the fuck do you suppose I do that?” Leon contested. The fear and anger swirling in heart branched out into his veins, causing his blood to boil. “You just showed me his file. The man is indestructible.”

“That’s not true.” O’Brian corrected. “He’s killable, the problem is, he won’t _stay_ dead.”

Leon grew quiet, allowing O’Brian to continue,

“All you need to do is put a bullet through his head, the BSAA will take over and secure him in an impregnable cell.”

“And do what with him exactly?” Leon questioned.

“That’s none of your concern.”

“None of my concern?” Leon shot back sharply. “I think I have a goddamn right to know.”

O’Brian met his gaze in a fixed staring contest before finally giving in,

“Whatever the BSAA likes. My guess, probably scientific research for anti-bodies.”

“You mean use him as a fucking lab rat.”

“And why would that matter? The man is a terrorist, Kennedy. He’s part of the reason we need a vaccine in the first place.”

Leon couldn’t really argue against that logic. And now that he thought about it, he didn’t really have much say in the matter when it came right down to it.

“So, are you going to do the right thing? Or not?” O’Brian stipulated.

///////////////////////////

They had stationed agents outside of his apartment. Leon wasn’t sure if this plan would really work or not. So many things were going through his head that he could hardly concentrate on what he was supposed to do.

 _How the fuck am I going to do this?_ Leon asked himself as he walked to the door of his home. O’Brian and Claire were both so sure that Leon had the upper hand in this fight. But Leon honestly didn’t think so. Not after reading that damnable file.

 _The man is so much stronger then I am… so much faster…_ His thoughts trailed off as he remembered how it hadn’t always been this way. When he and Wesker first met the tyrant had been so week and frail, he could barely even walk on his own.

Leon’s features tightened.

_And I helped him get back on his feet. It’s my fault we’re faced with an overpowered villain._

Leon’s hand shook as he attempted to unlock his door. He’d never get used to the thought of Al as the villain. Not after all the time they spent together. Even after knowing the truth about the other man, it was still hard to fathom.

Leon pushed aside his reluctance as he pushed open the door. His imagination ran wild, fully expecting to find Wesker standing behind it; waiting to pounce on him with a renewed homicidal vendetta.

But the apartment was dark.

Empty.

And so cold.

Leon released a quivering sigh that he didn’t know he’d been holding in. A voice murmured in his ear through the hidden communication device.

“Leon?” it was Claire.

The agent touched a hand to his ear.

“I’m here. The target is gone.”

 _Target._ He couldn’t believe he was actually on a mission to kill the man he loved. Or _once_ loved. He wasn’t so sure he could ever hold onto the same feelings he had before.

“Does he normally leave your residence?” The voice belonged to O’Brian this time.

They were probably hiding out in their armed vehicles around the perimeter. And for a second Leon worried that Wesker might spot them out there even though they weren’t exactly in plain sight. But he didn’t allow himself to worry about it for long, he needed to stay vigilant on the here and now.

“No, not usually.” Leon answered.

“We’ll wait awhile for him to show up. Though, there could be a chance that the mission is compromised.”

“There’s no way he could’ve known about it.” stated Leon, after all, the agent himself hadn’t even known how this day would turn out up until a few hours ago.

“I know.” said O’Brian. “But he’s smart. Maybe something happened prior to this that already put him on alert.”

Leon could only think of one thing.

His Dream.

Leon remembered how Wesker had awoken from a nightmare early this morning. How scared he looked.

_I dreamt that I lost you..._

Now it was all starting to come together. And even though Leon didn’t want to believe it, there was really only one plausible place the tyrant would’ve run off to. He had gone to find Chris. He probably wanted to tie up his loose ends after having that foreboding dream.

_You don't know what I've done in the past._

Leon paced down the hallway, subconsciously guiding himself into the kitchen to set the paper bag in his hands on the countertop. He couldn’t stop the ghost-like voices emerging up from the depths of his memories.

 _I don’t think he wants to hurt you, Leon_. Claire’s voice echoed in his head. Was that true? Well, it was partly why O’Brian even agreed to this plan in the first place, banking on the chance that Wesker had a soft spot for him.

But how could a mass murderer have a soft spot for him? How could someone who was so dead set on blood and violence care so much about one person? It must have been a scheme that the tyrant had concocted to torment Chris some more. But if Wesker really had plans to torment Chris further, wouldn’t it have been easier to simply kill Leon in front of Redfield instead?

The agent didn’t know what to think anymore. Wesker had without a doubt been lying about who he was but did that also mean he’d been lying about everything else? All the things he said…

Leon’s hand clattered over the glass cups as he blindly searched for something to drink, for something to calm his nerves.

_I love you too._

Leon squeezed his eyes shut, he couldn’t afford to break down right now. So he convinced himself that it had all been a coldhearted lie Wesker told him. Convinced himself that it was all lies. If only to make it easier somehow. But it didn’t make it easier for Leon… it only made it more painful.

“I’ve got eyes on the target.” came a voice in his ear and every nerve in Leon’s body pulled taut at the information.

“He’s heading inside.” O’Brian reported.

The agent’s heart started to beat wildly in his chest. His ribcage felt like it was getting squeezed by the wires of a snare.

“Leon.” Claire called, trying to get him to focus.

“I’m here.” Leon spoke, his throat hoarse and craving for something to quench his thirst.

“Get ready.” warned O’Brian. “And don’t forget to give us the signal the minute he’s dead.”

Leon’s breath shortened.

He wasn’t sure he could do this.

How could he just kill Wesker like it was nothing?

 _The man’s a terrorist. He’s a murderer! He tried to kill Chris and Claire!_ A voice was screaming in his head. His hands shook as he grabbed one of the bottles of liquor he kept stashed in the cupboard and poured himself a generous amount.

The door opened.

Leon forced himself to stay rigidly poised, trying not to give Wesker any signs that something was amiss. But he knew it was too late for that now because he could practically feel the apprehension wafting down through the hallway and into the kitchen when Wesker stopped at the sight of him.

“Leon,”

The sound of the tyrant’s voice sent a chain of goosebumps tingling down his back. Somehow that voice wasn’t the same as Leon remembered it and he faintly wondered if it was because it no longer resonated with Al, the man he loved, but instead with a dangerous B.O.W that could kill him faster than he could flinch.

The next exchange of words were like an automated message. Leon barely felt himself speaking, barely remembered even moving until he was turning around and facing Wesker.

The lights were still out. There was enough light from the windows to see clearly but the shadows in the room had the glow of Wesker’s eyes shining like two rings of fire.

 _How the fuck did I not see it before?_ Leon asked himself. He used to think those eyes were eerily beautiful. Now though… it was painfully obvious what they really represented. And it left Leon feeling completely drained and overcome with anguish. _How the fuck was I so blind?_

But he already knew the answer to that.

He had been blinded by love.

He threw the glass in his hands as hard as he could, sending it shattering into a million pieces against the wall.

“ _You fucking lied to me_.”

//////////////////

          Wesker can’t remember a time when he’s ever felt so small and exposed like he did in this moment. When he’s ever felt like an insignificant insect trapped in a web of lies. He once stood in front of feral B.O.Ws and people with an arsenal of lethal weapons. He once stood in the presence of death, several times, right before it took him. But standing in front of Leon and staring into those blue soulless eyes was more terrifying then anything he’s ever faced before.

“Where did you get this?” Wesker tried to keep his voice steady. Still holding onto the file that Leon had brought him, still holding onto the delusion that he could talk his way out of it. If he just stayed calm and in control he could convince Leon that all of this was just some ridiculous misconstruction.

But Leon gave him a hardnosed look that spoke for itself. He wasn’t about to be fooled by anyone anymore. The shadows under his eyes made him look so tired yet there was a wildness in them that could only speak to his anger.

“Does it fucking matter where I got it?”

The agent started to pace around the kitchen island, his movements were slow and guarded, coiled in preparation. Wesker felt the nerves in his muscles twitch in apprehension.

“But if you really want to know, this came from the advisor of the BSAA - Clive O'Brian.” Leon divulged in a rigid tone. “And while he sat me down to inform me _exactly_ what’s been going on behind my back, he flipped through that little file in your hands to show me just what kind of man you really are.” The rise and fall of his chest was accelerating with each breath, visibly becoming more upset the longer he stood in his presence.

“Claire was there too, as emotional support.” He said this with an air of bitter sarcasm. “I guess her being there was supposed to make all this shit easier to swallow somehow. But honestly? It didn’t make it any fucking easier because looking at her was like looking at Chris.” his words twisted into a resentful intonation that made the organs in Wesker’s chest twist as well.

The air was growing heavier as Leon edged closer to him.

“You wanna know what they offered me? They offered me a choice. A choice to either suffer the consequences for being _affiliated_ with you, or to do the right thing.”

When the words left his mouth his hand moved up in a smooth and swift motion. The next thing Wesker knew, he was staring down the barrel of a gun.

He couldn’t help but tense up.

In truth, he didn’t have much to fear from a gun. Not after all the deadly things that have already killed him. But Leon pointing a gun at him was the last thing he ever expected to happen.

It was almost terribly poetic. He remembered how similar this was to how they first met.

“Leon, let me explain-”

Leon huffed out an embittered laugh. One that wasn’t exactly amused, but rather astounded. It almost sounded crazy coming from him.

“Explain? Explain what exactly? That you’re the man responsible for what happened in Raccoon city and Africa? That you’re the man responsible for nearly killing Chris and sending both him and his sister to the hospital? That you’re the man who sent my old comrade, _my former friend_ , to assassinate me? That you’ve been pretending to give a shit about me this whole time when in reality you were making plans to kill everyone I care about!”

“That’s not true-” _Not entirely._ He wanted to clarify. He wanted to come up with the perfect excuse. But Leon didn’t give him the chance.

“Oh, its not? Then tell me, and don’t you dare fucking lie to me now. Did you or did you not just come back from the hospital?”

Wesker didn’t say anything, his mouth refusing to open.

“ **Tell me the truth!** ” Leon shouted.

“I did!”

The agent was stationary, his eyes wide and almost disbelieving. And Wesker realized that it was because he was still holding onto the tiniest bit of faith that Wesker wasn’t the coldhearted villain in that file. Or that Al wasn’t Wesker. But where there was once a fleeting doubt, soon disappeared into an ocean of pain that engulfed Leon’s expression completely.

“I fucking knew it.” He whispered. His eyes were so glassy they almost looked breakable. “You were looking for Chris weren’t you?”

“Please, just listen to me-”

“ _Listen_ to you? And why would I do that now?” the agent’s voice had lost its earlier severity and was replaced with a brittleness that could shatter the room.

“I thought you wanted the truth.”

Leon quietened down and Wesker took the chance to seize the moment.

“You’re right. I went there because I was looking for Chris-”

“You were going to kill him.” Leon finished for him. A hush fell over the room and it stretched on for what seemed like hours until finally Wesker admitted.

“I was. But-” The sound of a gunshot cut his sentence in half. He stiffened, every muscle in his body drew up tightly. Smoke wafted from the gun in front of him, but the bullet had flown over his shoulder and embedded itself at the back of the room.

“You fucking bastard!” Leon’s hand was trembling but Wesker knew that he had misfired on purpose. “Beating the shit out of him wasn’t enough?”

“ _Fuck_ , Leon, I didn’t even care about killing him anymore.” Wesker confessed in a rushed out breath. Leon became still. His expression was a combination of horror and disbelief.

“What?”

Wesker gave him a leveling look, knowing the only option left was to come clean and hope that Leon would at least value his honesty if nothing else.

“Most of what you said was right. All of those things I did, I _wanted_ to do them. But after I met you… After I…” He hesitated, unsure if saying it now would even make a difference but in the end he relented. “…after I fell in love with you I didn’t want to do them anymore because you’re more important to me than anything else.” said Wesker. “The only reason I was there today was because I _had_ to. I needed to kill him if I wanted to keep my identity a secret. If I wanted to keep _being with you_.”

Leon stared at him unresponsively, his lips slightly parted. The gun in his hand lowered ever so slightly, still trembling.

 “I was doing it for you.” stated Wesker.

The silence that followed was like a winter chill that dropped the temperature below zero, bringing everything to a standstill. And it felt like an eternity until the ice was brutally broken.

“You’re fucking crazy.”

The words were like a searing blade cutting right through Wesker’s flesh. His eyes stung at the insult and his throat tightened as if there was a literal rope pulling all the air out of his lungs.

He never let anything stop him before. Not zombies or B.O.Ws. Not BSAA agents. Not even death. And he wasn’t about to let a few words stop him now.

“You’re right, I’m fucking crazy.” Wesker echoed and he could see the fear in Leon’s eyes trickling in, like the tears that threatened to trickle down his face.

“I’m crazy in love with you.”

The tremble in Leon’s hands grew worse than before.

“Shut up.” The younger man muttered, his voice shaking just as bad as his fingers. The words didn’t have any spite in them, only an ever growing dread of the person in front of him. “You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to fucking say that to me after everything you did!” he shouted at him. The volume of his tone left the whole room hollow and ringing. “This was all just some sort of sick fucking game to you, wasn’t it? Hurting Chris and then using me to cause him more pain! Everything you ever said to me, every moment we spent together was a fucking lie!”

“That isn’t true. And deep down you know that isn’t true. What I said to you, I meant every word.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Leon disputed. “You were going to kill my friends… Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve been planning to kill me too.”

“Leon….” His identity was no longer a secret and neither were the motives he had in the beginning. Not when everything was laid out in the open now. But things had changed and that’s all that mattered. “You know I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“Do I?” Leon questioned skeptically. “And how would I know?”

“You’re still alive. Aren’t you?”

A brief hint of uneasiness crossed over Leon’s face.

“You must have wondered about it. After all, we both know I can overpower you faster than you can blink.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Because I don’t want to fight you…and I don’t want to hurt you.” Wesker repeated intently.

Leon let out a severed breath of air.

“You must be blind then.” he muttered, the pain glistening more prominently in his blue eyes. “Can’t you see you’ve hurt me already?”

“I…” Wesker faltered. Unsure of what to say. Unsure of how to make it better. “…I’m sorry.”

“You think an apology is going to make me hate you any less?”

That illusionary rope pulled taut around Wesker’s neck, making it difficult to remember how to verbalize. Making it difficult to remember how to breathe.

“You don’t mean that.” Wesker uttered quietly. “…because if you did then you would’ve shot me already.”

A cruel laugh puffed out of Leon’s mouth and a lone tear finally seeped out from the corner of his eye.

“And you would know. Because you know everything. Don’t you, _Wesker_?” The name sounded toxic on his tongue and the intonation was like a slap in the face. There wasn’t any love in it and Wesker was left speechless at Leon’s anger, at his raw _hatred_.

“You think that I can’t shoot you? That I’m too weak of a fucking person to keep my emotions from getting in the way of my job?”

Another tear fled from his eye and it only paved the way for more of them to flow down his face as the lines of his features cracked and broke down.

“Well you’re right.” he said, his voice hoarse and thin. “Shooting someone I’ve cared about all this time, someone who's not even going to put up a fight against me would be kinda fucked up wouldn’t it? But betraying everyone I’ve ever known, betraying my moral code and my fucking _country_ … that’s even more fucked up.” Leon whispered, taking a long and empty pause. “Either way… how could I ever live with myself?”

It was like all the air got sucked out of the room. As if they were in an airplane that was free-falling toward the ground with all the windows smashed open. A pressurized force was coming in from all sides of Wesker, threatening to crush every bone in his body. The images of blood and the sound of whispered words crept into his thoughts.

_Did you think I’d be able to live with myself?_

The tyrant’s movements were a sudden blur of faded colors.

If Leon couldn’t live with making either choice, then Wesker would choose for him.

He instantly appeared right in front of Leon, clutching the younger man’s hands in a grip so tight it had Leon stiffening with a startled gasp. His eyes widened, alarmed with how fast Wesker had moved. But his shock only lasted for a second because in the next, he was struggling to break free.

“Let go of me-” Leon grated through his teeth.

“Leon, look at me.” Wesker rumbled and the sound of it slowed Leon’s movements. He looked up at the tyrant in fear and apprehension of what he might do. But Wesker didn’t do anything, just looked at him with eyes that were as fearful and worried as Leon’s own.

“You’re the most important person in my life. I would do anything for you. I would kill for you. I would take a bullet for you. I would fucking _die_ for you.” Wesker spoke in a timbre that was utterly exposed and earnest yet never losing it’s intensity. The words dwindled towards the end as he avidly stared at Leon like Leon truly was the only person that mattered to him. And then his fingers slid over Leon’s. The movement tilted the gun upward to where the barrel was pointing under Wesker’s chin.

“I’ll even prove it.” he whispered.

Leon visibly stopped breathing but that didn’t stop his heart from furiously pounding in his chest so fiercely that Wesker could see it heaving up and down.

“Wha-what are you doing?” Leon stammered, fresh tears were threatening to spill from his eyes. “Have you lost your mind?”

When Wesker didn’t say anything, Leon sucked in a short intake of air and erupted into a fit of rage.

“You psychotic son of a bitch! How much further are you going to go?! It’s not enough to fucking torture the people I care about but you have to torture me to?” silence was all that answered him and Leon grew louder than ever before. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He jerked against him but the tyrant didn’t budge an inch. He was like a stone statue.

Tears began flowing freely down Leon’s face but that didn’t lessen the glare he aimed up at Wesker.

“Do you honestly think this fucking changes anything? It’s not like you’re even going to feel it. It probably won’t even fucking hurt you!” he was yelling as loud as he could, anything to get Wesker to react.

“I know dying is going to hurt.” Wesker’s voice sounded so soft compared to the roar of Leon’s own. And it had the agent going completely motionless, eyes widening further as the weight of the situation bore down on him. “…but losing you would hurt more.”

His finger squeezed over Leon’s on the trigger.

The air seized in the younger man’s lungs. He struggled with all his strength to try and break away.

“No- **Stop!** ”

A loud bang exploded in his eardrums. The bullet tore under Wesker’s chin and out through the top of his skull. Blood splattered all the way to the ceiling and the world snapped into a black void that was lightless and empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Leon, I've put you through so much 😢
> 
> And by the way thank you all so much for all the comments and kudos ❤️ It's always astounding to me how much positive feedback I get from my writing. I can't believe this story is over 400 kudos! That's just mind blowing to me! I can't thank you all enough!


	16. January 2nd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *WARNINGS*  
> For Necrophilia (kind of) This chapter doesn't get too crazy with that, I promise. Leon's just very sad and he needs attention. Also, warnings for blood, panic attacks and angst. Lots of angst.  
> I'm sorry!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so, so much for all the love ❤️ and support! 🥰 It really means so much to me that people read what I write and also get inspired to draw. Thanks to the lovely and very talented VaporwaveMilk we have a fantastic piece of fanart that I'd like to share with you all that visualizes the last scene of the last chapter! Again, thank you so much VaporwaveMilk for drawing this and allowing me to share it! I am absolutely a fan!
> 
> https://www.instagram.com/p/B1wnH2ODoxJ/?igshid=1ngea6xnwjzp5
> 
> And now, onto the chapter! Be advised, this is one of the longest chapters so far if not the longest lol.

"After all we've been through, it'd be a waste to give up now." - Leon Kennedy

“Leon? _Leon-!_ ”

He couldn’t hear the voice calling out to him. He couldn’t feel the ground beneath him. And he couldn’t see anything other than the dark streaks of blood that stained everything from floor to ceiling.

“Leon! Are you there-?”

The voice sounded so far off and it continued to get further and further away, until there was nothing in his ears but a high pitch screech that ringed on and on for what seemed like forever.

“Leon! Answer me! What’s going on? What happened?!”

Those particular words seemed to strike a chord within him because he was finally beginning to come to his senses.

He found himself on the floor. Though, he didn’t know when he’d crumpled to his knees. He tried to move but he couldn’t. He tried to speak but when he opened his mouth only a strangled sound escaped his lips. It was like breathing through a straw, where he could taste the air but couldn’t get enough of it. Another sound was rushing through his ears. An ailing and frantic noise that came in short bursts without respite.

“Leon! Please answer me! Are you ok?”

He couldn’t answer her because his body was locked in a relentless hyperventilating cycle.

“We’re going in!” shouted another voice in his ear.

“ _Leon_!”

He didn’t know how long it lasted. How long he was down on the floor suffering from a panic attack. But in a sudden rush of desperation, he forced his lips and tongue to move with every ounce of strength he could muster.

“C-Cl-Claire-” He was choking on his own words. Choking on his own gasps.

“Leon? Oh, thank god. Are you alright?” Claire sounded on the verge of a panic attack herself.

“Claire-” His breaths hitched and his vision became blurred from the tears that threatened to flood his eyes. “Claire- I-I- can’t bre-breathe.”

“Leon, it’s going to be ok. But you have to listen to me-”

He stopped listening after she said it was going to be ok.

“N-no.” the word was all but a whimper and he couldn’t stop the drops of liquid salt that gushed down his face. “-it’s n-not going to be ok.”

“Leon-”

His breathes were still hitching, still struggling to circulate in a normal rhythm. But he couldn’t get himself to calm down. Not when his gaze was transfixed on the bloody scene before him.

“Claire, he’s- he’s-… I think he’s dead.”

“Leon, I know. O’Brian is coming up there with a team right at this moment. You need to open the door-” Claire was saying, but once again Leon wasn’t listening. He couldn’t get past his shock to even process what she was telling him.

“He- he’s dead… He’s… not ge-getting up. He’s…he’s-” Leon whined to himself, sounding increasingly panicked and distraught.

“Leon, snap out of it! And get away from him! He’s probably going to regenerate any minute now! You need to open the door!”

“Cla-Claire…wha-what if he was human?” Leon whispered, he was sounding more far away with each passing moment and Claire fought not to lose him to his own conflicting emotions.

“Leon, please! We don’t have much time!”

“What if he was _human?!_ ” Leon suddenly shouted.

“For fuck’s sake, get ahold of yourself and open this door!” a different voice ordered in his ear. Leon recognized it to be O’Brian. And not even a minute later a pounding on the front door boomed throughout the apartment.

Leon stiffened and didn’t move. He couldn’t force himself to look away from the lifeless body that hadn’t budged an inch from where it’d fallen. He couldn't distance himself from the blood that continued to pool and soak into the hardwood floors.

“He’s not moving…” Leon was muttering to himself. “He’s not healing…”

“Leon! I’m giving you an order!” shouted O’Brian. Leon didn’t even need the coms device to hear him this time. Not when he was right outside his apartment trying to break his door down with a team of armed agents.

“Leon, do as he says!” Claire pleaded.

“He should be healing by now, shouldn’t he?” Leon said instead, ignoring them all. “Why isn’t he healing?!”

“For the last time, open this door! Unless you want to join his corpse in a prison cell where the two of you can rot away together.” O’Brian threatened. From the edge of his tone, Leon got the sickening feeling that it had already been prearranged.

“Leon, please.” Claire sounded even more concerned about how all of this was going to end.

“You-…you heard us didn’t you?” Leon uttered.

Claire paused for a brief moment before caving in,

“Yes we did.”

“Then you know-” Leon started. “You know I’m not the one who shot him.”

“Leon, this is why you need to open the door. You need to prove that you’re still on our side!” Claire implored.

“How can I be?” the agent spoke into the empty room as more tears stung in his eyes. “…what you’re going to do to him…its no better than the same mad scientists that we fight against.”

“Goddamn it, Kennedy! Now is not the time to patronize me. If you want to get out of this alive, then you’ll open this door right now or so help me, we’ll shoot you on sight!” O’Brian shouted.

“Advisor!” Claire objected. “That’s not-”

“You have by the count of three!” O’Brian threatened. But that hardly seemed relevant because something slammed into the front door at the same time.

Leon covered his ears so that the only thing his senses could focus on was Wesker. The tyrant lay there in a large red puddle. Lips slightly parted and bloodstained, head blown back. And Leon could see the gruesome wound under his chin, along with the rivulets of crimson that slowly trickled out of it. The lids of his eyes were partially open, exposing a milky white color that was both unseeing and empty.

The younger man drew his knees up to his nose and started to quietly weep.

“I…I killed a person… I-…I killed a _human_.”

“Leon, that’s enough! Wesker isn’t human!” Claire yelled into his ear. “Think about what he did to everyone! Think about what he did to Chris! He tried to kill him!”

“Open the door!” shouted O’Brian.

“I can’t, I _can’t_!” Leon couldn’t do this. Al was hurt. _No_ … he was…

“Advisor, Leon is in shock! Please just give him some time!” Claire begged.

“We don’t have time! Any minute that B.O.W. is going to come back to life, and then what? We’re going to have a bioweapon on our hands that we can’t control.” O’Brian was ranting but Leon had heard enough. A crackle cut through the frequency.

“Leon? _Leon_!” Claire called in alarm.

The agent yanked the coms device out of his ear and flung it across the room.

“Kennedy!” he could still hear O’Brian out in the hallway along with the ever persistent slamming against his front door. It wouldn’t be long until they burst in and raided his home. But that was the last thing on Leon’s mind. He was past rationality. Past thinking about his prior mission. Past thinking about why he was here and why Al needed to die.

 _You fool, that isn’t the Al that you know. That’s Wesker! The evil son of a bitch that tried to take over the world!_ The voice of reason was small and fleeting and it held next to no bearing on Leon’s train of thought. Because the only thing his thoughts could revolve around was Al and how he just killed himself, how he just gave up  _everything_ , for Leon.

“Open the goddamn door, Kennedy!” O’Brian was still yelling at him through that wooden barrier. The pounding was growing louder but Leon paid none of it any attention. All his attention was focused solely on one person.

He didn’t realize he was even moving until he was beside Wesker’s motionless form. The younger blond lifted a hand, finger’s trembling in the cold air before tentatively touching the other man’s shoulder.

“Al?” Leon whispered.

He wasn’t sure what he was hoping for. Perhaps for Al to move. Perhaps for Al to tell him that he was going to be alright. To show that he hadn’t actually died even though the veracity of his condition was staring the agent right in the face. The banging on the front door was all but background noise in Leon’s chaotic addled mind. Yet the sound was still an over protuberant reminder of the ill-fated situation he was in.

“Kennedy! This is your last chance!”

It was a chance that Leon wasn’t going to take.

Without sparing a thought on the consequences, or wasting one more second of hesitation, he made a split second decision to follow his heart instead of the commonsense in his brain. He slid his hands through the stagnant blood and under Wesker’s body. The agent pulled the corpse toward him but found it difficult to support the burden with his arms alone. When he tried to get to his feet his footing faltered on the slippery floors but he grounded himself in place just before he lost his balance.

“ _Fuck_ …Fuck!” Leon cursed, his head swimming in a spiral of fear and distress.

Wesker was heavier then when they first met. Leon remembered a time when he was able to carry the older blond with nearly one arm alone. But that was before…

Before Wesker got better. Before Wesker got _stronger_.

And now, the tyrant was nothing but dead weight in his arms.

Leon’s ears caught the sound of the front door creaking in protest under the relentless assault of kicking feet. The hinges on his door began splintering against the wooden frame.

“Shit.” Leon huffed out, his eyes reflexively squeezing shut as the panic in his chest compressed his lungs and caused his heartrate to quicken into short and wild pulses.

O’Brian’s words began to reverberate in Leon’s head. Words that spoke about using Wesker as a means to an end to further their research for a cure. What exactly would that entail? Would they cut Wesker up into pieces so they could fit him onto sample slides and observe him under a microscope? Would they pull his cells apart in a petri dish? Would Wesker feel it? Would his body still try to come back together even after being torn and cut open over and over again? All in the name of science.

“ _No._ ” Leon uttered aloud for anyone who was listening. No matter who it was or for what reason, it was wrong. Dead or alive, there was no way to justify the act of cutting up a person’s body like a piece of meat.

 The agent opened his eyes and looked down at Wesker. He felt a sting in his stare again. He couldn’t keep track of how many times he’s cried today. Only knew that it’d been one too many.

“…I won’t let them.” Leon whispered. Speaking as if the other man could actually hear him. “I’m not going to let them touch you, I promise.”

His front door snapped and groaned, splinters of wood went flying down the hallway as the next kick nearly caved it in half.

“Leon!” shouted O’Brian. The door was nearly broken through. One more good kick was all it would take .

With little time to spare Leon quickly maneuvered Wesker onto his back. He never would’ve imagined giving someone a piggyback ride at a time like this, but he was out of options and this was the only efficient way to carry him. Wesker’s arms were looped loosely around Leon’s neck and his body slumped a bit too far to one side. Leon pitched him higher on his back before he could fall off, breathing out another curse in the process.  Blood quickly soaked into the fabric of his shirt and his legs trembled under the added weight.

 _Fuck,_ he didn't know how he was going to get them both out of here but there was only one possible route they could take.

The fire escape.

He ran as fast as he could, as fast as humanly possible with a person on his back. He fled into the living room where he kicked the window in that led to the fire escape. He could hear the front door to his apartment crash open.

“Kennedy! Freeze where you are!” shouted O’Brian.

Leon didn’t heed the warning. Instead, he quickly squeezed himself through the broken window with Wesker in tow.

A round of shots fired off after him and Leon just barely made it out onto the metal grating before any of the bullets could land their mark.

“Kennedy!”

Leon hastily jumped down the flight of stairs one set after another in an attempt to gain more ground. But the third flight was a bit steeper than the last and Leon ended up losing his balance and slamming into the iron railings head first.

He groaned, shaking away the pain as swiftly as he could. Above him, the stomps of footsteps drew nearer.

 _Shit, …shit, shit!_ They were going to catch up and Leon desperately looked around, searching for an alternative way to escape.

He glanced over the railing, analyzing the height of a neighboring rooftop and how close it was to his own apartment. His grip on Wesker tightened and he gave himself some space for a running start.

“I’m sorry…If I don’t make it, I’m sorry.” Leon mumbled to Wesker even though he knew the other couldn’t hear him.

He dashed across the grating, using every ounce of strength in his legs to leap up and off the balustrade.

“Stop!” shouted someone from above but it was too late now. He was free-falling. He couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.

It felt like his heart flew up into his throat. It felt like his stomach sunk to the bottom of his gut. He was only in the air for a few seconds but those seconds were the longest in his life. He honestly wasn’t sure if he was going to survive this.

But it was over sooner than anticipated. He collided onto the flat surface of the rooftop. Losing his footing, losing his hold on Wesker and tumbling head over heels a few times before rolling to a complete stop. He staggered to his feet, feeling dizzy and lightheaded. Everything was blurred and jumbled but he could hear voices in the distance. Ones that shouted and hollered across the street between them.

Despite how hazy everything was, the dire situation was never lost on Leon. He sprinted across the top of the building, finding Wesker laying not too far off from where he landed. The younger blond quickly carried him on his back again and took off in the opposite direction of O’Brian and the agents. Another round of gunshots flew in his direction but that didn’t falter his strides or his resolve. A few agents dogged after him, copying his leap of faith and giving chase.

Leon didn’t turn around at the sound of their pursuit. Not once. He couldn’t afford any diversions. He was completely determined on escape. He leapt from one building to the next, trying to choose the most narrow gaps to clear over. He knew this made it easy for the ones giving chase as well but the sky had fallen dark. The cloudy weather only bolstered the growing shadows that lengthened across the city. And Leon used it to his advantage by darting behind a ventilation unit once he was far enough out of view. He sat still as a few agents flew right by him but he didn’t dare let out a sigh of relief. He was still out in the open and he couldn’t afford to take a breather. He struggled to his feet and once again set off in a mad dash across the rooftops. He wasn’t sure where he was going, he only knew that he needed to get as far away as possible. No time to think about it. No time to rest either. He needed to keep moving, to keep running. As long as he could.

He should’ve been more careful. He should've at least taken 30 seconds to rest. But he was so absorbed on running and trying to stay alive that he lost his footing on his next lunge.

Instead of leaping to the safety of another rooftop, he ended up crashing through a window. He slammed into an old wooden floor. One that instantly collapsed beneath him, bringing him one level down and into an old empty kitchen.

“ _fuck…_ ” Leon groaned. A cloud of dust wafted into the air from the impact. He was slow to push himself up as he checked himself for any injuries. Other than a few scrapes and cuts, he wasn’t hurt. But there would probably be bruises in the morning.

 Wesker’s body slid off of his back, completely unresponsive to everything that just happened.

The ex-agent stumbled to his feet. He coughed the dirt out of his lungs and waved a hand in front of his face. He tottered off to the side to lean against a nearby wall, finally giving himself a moment to catch his breath. Minutes ended up ticking by until the throbbing in Leon’s head faded away and his vision became more focused.

Once he got his bearings he noticed that the room was quiet. In fact, the entire building appeared to be quiet. He paused, straining his ears in order to pick up any sort of noise in the vicinity. Or from outside. Leon couldn’t hear a sound or creak apart from his own breaths and shaky footing. It would seem that his pursuers had long lost his trail. He looked around. The place seemed old. Very old. And dusty. He looked up to the ceiling. At the hole he fell through. The wood was rotten, grey and withered.

Neglected.

Abandoned.

He had fallen into a deserted building of some sort. Though, from the look of the kitchen and the adjoining hallway Leon guessed that it used to be a housing complex or maybe even hotel.

Leon allowed himself to let out a long and deep exhale. He closed his eyes and sunk to the floor.

///////////

It was safe to say that he was out of the frying pan for the time being. The abandoned hotel was a good place to lay low, at least for a little while until Leon could figure out where to go from here.

He was staring out the window of what was once a bedroom. There was an old mattress still in here, torn up and dirt stained but better than nothing. He had laid Wesker on it. The older blond hadn’t moved or even showed signs of waking up and Leon honestly didn’t know how to feel about any of it. He was so tired and emotionally exhausted, he didn’t want to feel anything at all anymore.

The cloud coverage had grown thicker in the sky but even though Leon couldn’t see the sun, he knew the day had reached its end. He retreated away from the window and finally collapsed on the mattress beside Wesker. Exhaustion would’ve made it easy to try and forget the world around him or pretend that things weren’t so fucked up like they were. But despite how drained he was, he couldn’t find it in himself to blissfully pass out the moment his head hit the pillow.

Instead, he turned his head towards Wesker. There was blood caked under the tyrant’s chin and the majority of his hair was matted with it. Leon had closed the other man’s eyes and lips. And he could almost fool himself into thinking Wesker was just asleep if it wasn’t for…

Leon’s eyes crinkled as they shifted down to look at the wound under his chin. It wasn’t bleeding anymore but it wasn’t healing either. It was still exposed. Open and gaping. Leon didn’t understand it. If all that stuff in Wesker’s file was true then why wasn’t he healing? Wasn’t he an advanced form of human evolution? Shouldn’t he have woken up by now?

Sirens wailed in the distance. Not close enough to worry about, but far enough to be a constant reminder of what was waiting for him outside. Leon’s lips quivered and his body curled over to one side in order to be closer to Wesker. Even with the knowledge of his true identity, Leon couldn’t shake off the image of the man he’s come to know. The man that hated cheesy Christmas movies. The man that loved cuddling even though he’d never admit it. The man that always listened to him when Leon had something to say. The man that he loved. The man that he knew as Al. And despite all that’s happen, Leon would never be able to see him as anything else.

“Al,” Leon whispered, almost afraid that if he spoke too loud he’d give away their position and the BSAA would find them. He didn’t want to think about that ever happening. He didn’t want to think about what they were going to do to them. To Wesker specifically.

At his voice, Wesker didn’t respond. He didn’t move either. It’s been hours. His wound should have at least started mending itself by now. It was such a small wound, it should have…

But it wasn’t. And the realization that this was permanent, that Wesker wasn’t going to wake up, hit Leon so mercilessly that he began to cry in soft sobs.

“Al-…I’m…” Leon sniffed, tilting his head forward to press his face against his chest. “I’m sorry. I-…I never wanted any of this to happen.” He slid one of Wesker’s arms around him so that he could have the illusion that the other man was comforting him in some way. But that’s all it was. Just an illusion.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry.” His words were muffled in Wesker’s shirt and he couldn’t stop the sobs that grew more unsteady to the point where it lurched his body with each breath he took.

“I’m sorry…” Leon repeated. And he continued to verbalize it over and over again until sleep finally took hold and allowed him to pass out in Wesker’s arms.

//////////////////

When Leon awakened, he thought he was back home. Back in his own warm bed with Wesker pressed up against him, greedily seeking for something warm to nuzzle his face into like he always did. But it was the cruel and bitter chill that brought Leon out of his perfect fantasy and back into harsh reality.

His eyes slid open and he slowly shifted out of his huddled position against Wesker. He could feel the cold and stiff outline of his corpse where it hadn’t moved an inch since last night.

And Leaon stared for the longest time at it. Until a helpless whimper forced it’s way up the back of his throat. His eyes were starting to hurt; the sight before him turning muddled. He couldn’t fight against the hot and persistent tears that streaked down his cheeks.

He wished this was all just a horrible nightmare. But the draft of icy air and the distant sirens was only proof that he was very much awake.

After a while, Leon finally compelled himself to get up. He moved to the window to look outside, but saw no one in the streets or anywhere in sight. Either his location was still hidden, or the BSAA were hiding in wait. Leon knew that he had to risk leaving the hotel and scouting the premises for signs of the agents. And while he was at it, he needed to find a form of transportation so that he could get out of the city.

The ex-agent cast a long glance back at Wesker, hoping against all odds that the other man would still be there when he returned.

//////////

It took him forty minutes to scout the premises, being careful to remain out of sight at all times. But he didn’t find anyone in the area waiting to pounce on him. He tried to think of it as a stroke of good luck especially when he found an old Subaru parked out in one of the back alleys. The car was old, rusted in some parts but the tires were still good. And when Leon wired it alive the engine didn’t explode. So that was a relief. He could use the car to take them far out of the city. He wasn’t exactly sure to where just yet but he’d worry about that later. The longer he stayed here, the greater the chances were of them finding him.

Leon went back to the hotel and found Wesker exactly in the same spot and it had the younger man feeling both relieved and disappointed. Part of him was secretly hoping that Wesker would surprise him by being awake, health fully restored. But that wasn’t the case.

His wounds were still there and so was all that blood. His body was cold, his limbs stiff.

And fuck, Leon didn’t want to think about it but the image of rotting flesh and open lesions bombarded his head with flashbacks of Raccoon City. Of zombies that were covered in blood and grey skin that fell off their bones. Would Wesker look like that soon? Would his skin start to rot away in a few days?

Leon pushed the thought aside as he found some old bedsheets to drape over Wesker’s body. In the scenario that a passerby saw them, he thought it better that they didn’t see the extent of what the dead man looked like.

With some work, Leon was able to carry Wesker all the way to the car. He put him in the back seat, down on the floor so no one could see him. Leon then slid into the driver’s side and shifted the gear out of neutral.

///////////

He kept himself calm while he drove through the streets. It was still pretty early in the day and the cloud coverage from last night had fallen over the city in a blanket of mist. Which helped ease his fears about the chances of being discovered. It was a smooth drive, there weren’t many cars around. Probably because of the weather and Leon was thankful for that. Yet, that didn’t make him feel any better about the circumstances. The scenery was almost chillingly haunting, mainly because he had a dead person in his back seat.

He tried to put it out of his mind, tried to just focus on the road. But he couldn’t stop his eyes from flickering to the review mirror every now and again, thinking that maybe… just maybe he’d see Wesker sitting upright back there.

///////////

Leon was able to drive out of the city without incident. And he drove onward down an empty highway to put as much distance between him and the BSAA as he could. During his drive he attempted to turn on the radio, if only to drown out all the noise in his own head but all he got on the local frequency was disjointed static. He angrily switched it off, forced to endure the long journey in silence.

The sky eventually started growing dark. It was still cloudy outside but Leon could tell that the sun was setting. The long stretch of road he was on showed no signs of branching off or ending which wasn’t a good sign. Because at this point the car was basically running on empty. He should’ve kept better track of the amount of fuel left in his tank but he’d been so worried about getting caught and determined to stay on the move, that he had neglected it completely.

The ex-agent let out a defeated and tired sigh once the car began to cough and shudder to a stop. When it refused to move a millimeter more despite how hard Leon pressed his foot on the pedal he finally accepted the fact that he wasn’t going anywhere.

It would seem that his luck had run out.

Leon got out of the vehicle and kicked the door shut, uncaring if he left a dent in it. He walked to the back passenger seat and pulled the door open, spotting Wesker down on the floor where he’d left him. Leon slowed his movements and just stood there staring at the body. Then his fist flew up and smashed right through the window, sending glass shards flying in every direction.

He shouted into the air in both rage and anguish.

“Why won’t you wake up?! Why? _Why?!_ ” He felt the tears coursing down his face before he could comprehend that he was crying again. His own words were echoing in his head like a broken record.

_A person…I killed a person._

_What if he was human?!_

Leon shuffled towards the rear of the car to lean against it and bury his face in his hands.

_What if he was human? Maybe that’s why he’s not healing. Maybe that’s why he won’t wake up._

Human.

The word made Leon’s stomach twist in abhorrence. His shoulders were shaking and it took him a full minute to come to terms with his own emotions. With no agents close by to worry about, and no one around to see him, the younger man started openly sobbing.

//////////

Leon eventually pulled himself together. He already wasted too much time over a panic attack and he couldn’t afford to waste a second more while BSAA agents were still actively trying to find him.

With no car and no other form of transportation, Leon was forced to carry Wesker on his back once again. He knew that staying in place would be a bad idea. He needed to keep moving before his pursuers could catch up.

Instead of taking the road, he veered off into the woods. Thinking it’d be harder to follow his trail if he wasn’t taking one already paved out on a map. At the same time though, it made it more difficult for Leon, who was carrying a heavy burden on his back and trying to find his footing amidst the uneven soil and thick tree roots. As if things weren’t bad enough, it began to snow.

He should’ve expected it in early January but the sight of snowfall still had him sagging his shoulders and muttering jaded curses under his breath. Leon pressed on though. Even as the ice flakes accumulated on the ground and further hindered his progress. Even as his muscles burned and strained under the weight of Wesker’s body. Even as his ribs shuddered in exhausted gasps; his mouth dry, his lungs winded. Even in the harsh elements, he pressed on. Knowing that if he stopped now then he may as well tell the BSAA that he surrendered.

And Leon S. Kennedy was a man that _never_ surrendered.

Not in Raccoon City, not in Spain, and definitely not now.

Hours went on like this and the snow continued to build on the ground. Wisps of cold air misted out from Leon’s panting mouth. Cold sweat hugged his skin and hair, causing him to shiver. His feet grew numb and his next step nearly had him folding on his knees, ice slipping under his boots.

“Fuck,” Leon panted, readjusting his grip on Wesker. He was starting to lose feeling in his hands too and he knew that he needed to find a place to rest for the night or else he was going to freeze to death.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you.” Leon huffed as he progressed through the woods. He felt the need to reassure someone, when really all he wanted was to reassure himself. “We’re almost there, I promise we’ll rest in a little bit.”

Wesker didn’t say anything and Leon ignored the fact that it was because he couldn’t.

The ex-agent didn’t keep track of how much time had passed, but it felt like it was an hour later when he came to a small clearing with an old little cottage sitting in the middle of a dead meadow. The windows were dark, the front door was boarded up and it looked like it’s foundation was about to crumble from the slightest breeze. The home looked just as lifeless as Wesker.

But it was better than nothing.

With what little energy Leon had left, he made his way over to the small house and laid Wesker on the front porch. He paced across the patio and looked through the windows. Nearly every room was empty, save for some sparse furniture. He didn’t blame anyone for leaving this place behind. It was well out of the way of civilization and in the middle of nowhere with nothing but the lonely woods for company.

Leon kicked the door down and dragged Wesker inside.

Inside was just as cold as outside and Leon trembled as he stuck the door back on its hinges and moved about the house to try and find a way to warm himself up. He left Wesker on the floor for the time being as he made a sweep of the area. He ended up finding a woodstove in the living room. There wasn’t any firewood in sight but there were a couple of old wooden chairs in the kitchen that he could utilize.

He broke them down into pieces then brought them into the living room and stuffed them into the fireplace. A small amount of kerosene along with a nearly empty lighter sat on the stone tiles close by and Leon used up the remaining fuel to start a fire. It took a while for the flames to steadily build up and longer still until the warmth of it seeped into the room.

Leon scooted closer and huddled in front of it, hugging his legs to his chest and trying to rub feeling back into his hands. He was still shivering, his clothes and hair damp from all the snow and ice but as time passed and as the fire grew, he started to get warmer.

He sat there for a while. Just staring into the flames and trying to forget about the world around him. But it was hard to relax when in the background, a lifeless corpse was just waiting there for him.

Leon eventually stood up and went to retrieve Wesker’s body. He pulled it into the living room and grabbed all the cushions off the frayed couch to arrange them on the floor in a makeshift mattress. He laid Wesker in front of the fire, remembering how the other man used to get so cold at night. Part of Leon was still worried that Wesker felt cold right at this moment… even though he was dead. He supposed some habits die hard.

The ex-agent walked out of the room and paced through the house. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for. Maybe more firewood. Or maybe some food. Anything to take his mind off the present circumstances. He hadn’t eaten anything since all this started but he doubted there was anything edible left in this house. He opened a small closet, expecting to find some dated canned beef or more stuff to burn but all he found were mothballs and old linens. He stilled as his eye caught something. He turned his head.

In the corner, he spotted the long handle of a shovel. Leon reached in to pull it out. And once it was in full view, he regarded it in silence.

_A shovel._

Leon intuitively looked towards the living room where Wesker’s corpse was. He probably should’ve thought about this sooner. He should’ve thought about what he was going to do with the body. He’d been so busy trying to get away, he never stopped to think about the future. And now that he _was_ thinking about the future, a tightening in his chest and in his throat began to form.

He couldn’t carry on like this. He couldn’t _carry_ Wesker on his back forever. There would come a point in time where he’d have to let him go. Where he’d have to leave him behind.

Where he’d have to say goodbye.

The shovel slipped from his fingers and onto the floor with a clatter. Leon pressed his forehead against the doorframe and closed his eyes, feeling the all familiar dampness run down his face as the relentless tears escaped.

//////////

It took him longer this time to come back out of it. He was a total wreck but he managed to bottle it all up for the time being. He told himself that maybe it was better to just get this over with. It’s been nearly two days since Wesker died. And tomorrow would make it three. The ex-agent knew that lugging the body around any longer would only reflect his inability to let things go. He had to face the facts that Wesker wasn’t coming back and waiting a few more days or a few more weeks wasn’t going to change that. It was only going to make things harder.

So Leon went out through the back door and into the large yard where there was a broken clothesline and pieces of junk scattered about.

It was still snowing. Leon would be lucky if the ground hadn’t frozen by now. He walked out a few paces from the house, then stabbed the shovel into the ground. The dirt was still soft, the snow only dampening it so far.

He began to dig. Regardless of how tired he was, of how sore his body was, he dug and dug as quickly as he could. The faster he dug the hole, the faster he could go back inside. And once he was done, then he wouldn’t have to cry anymore. He could make his peace and then…

And then what?

Leon movement’s dwindled to a halt.

What was he going to do after all this was said and done? He couldn’t go back to the BSAA. He couldn’t face Claire or the rest of his friends. Not after choosing a mass murderer over them.

The ex-agent buried his shovel to the hilt and leaned against it for support as new tears fell from his eyes. They landed on the icy ground, where they froze into the soil. He didn’t know what he was going to do after this. It wasn’t like he had many options to choose from. Not when he had nothing left to live for.

He might as well just bury himself alongside Wesker.

////////////////////

When Leon finished digging, the night sky had cleared, revealing the bright full moon. He stumbled back into the house and into the living room. He was coated in dirt and snow. His hands were red and blistered, scabs of blood were even starting to harden on them. But he was past caring about himself as he fell in front of the dying fire. He stoked it back to life and crammed what was left of the broken pieces of furniture into the hearth. When he was done, he slumped down onto the cushions with his back to Wesker. Not wanting to stare into his pale face at the moment. He’d much rather stare into the fire.

But after thirty minutes or so, Leon eventually turned himself around. He looked at the other man and secretly made a wish that he’d open his eyes.

But Wesker didn’t.

He just lay there unmoving.

Unseeing.

And unbreathing.

Leon clenched his teeth to keep himself from whimpering again. And much the same way he did last night, he moved Wesker’s arms around him so that he could pretend that this night was just like any other night they’ve spent together. He rested his face against Wesker’s neck, his mouth touching the cold span of exposed skin. But then he felt a thread of silk rub against his lips and he nosed along the length of it until he felt the cold touch of metal and a soft sound of a chime reach his ears.

_He's still wearing it..._

Wesker hadn't taken it off. Not since the morning Leon left to go to work.

If Leon closed his eyes, he could pretend that he was back in his bed with Wesker. He could pretend that Wesker hadn't ever woken up from a nightmare. He could pretend that Wesker was still sleeping.

He could pretend that Wesker was still alive.

Leon rose a hand to lay it over Wesker’s chest. If he thought hard enough, he could imagine the feeling of the other man breathing. Lungs inhaling and exhaling alongside his own. Leon tilted his head up, eyes still closed, blindly searching with his lips as he leaned in, until they pressed against Wesker’s in a slow and soft kiss.

Wesker’s lips were freezing in contrast. Like the cold touch of death. And Leon could taste the coppery tinge of blood on his tongue. But that didn’t deter him in the slightest. The familiar feel of the tyrant’s skin only made him want to taste more of it. Without thinking, he licked along the line of Wesker’s lips before slipping his tongue inside and capturing the other’s mouth in a deeper kiss. He lifted a hand to rest it alongside Wesker’s face, thumb brushing over an icy cheekbone.

Something hot burned down the bridge of Leon’s nose and he knew that he was crying again. Silently this time.

But he ignored the tears. He kept his eyes closed and tried to fool himself into thinking that this current moment was anything but what it actually was. He wanted to believe that what happened the other day only happened in a bad dream. But when Leon leaned back and broke their kiss, he opened his eyes to see that none of this was a bad dream. It was real.

Wesker was dead.

And not even Leon’s kiss was going to bring him back.

////////////////

Leon woke up early the next morning without realizing he’d fallen asleep. His vision was foggy, his mind groggy and his entire body was so sore to the extent that he could barely move. He rolled onto his back and lifted an aching hand over his stubbled face to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

For a few minutes he patiently waited for his brain to fully come around. His hand fell away so that he could blink up at the ceiling. Pale light was coming in through the windows and from the slight chill in the air he could tell that the fire had gone out. Leon let out a soulless sigh before slowly sitting up. He looked at the fireplace to conclude that, yes, it indeed had gone out. But he supposed that wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t like he was going to be staying in this house for much longer.

He didn't have any plans after he buried Wesker. He wasn’t sure if he could even go on without him. But Leon supposed he’d burn that bridge when he crossed it. He still had some time to make up his mind about what he was going to do with himself before the BSAA picked up his trail. It would probably take them another few hours, a day if he was really lucky, for them to find his tracks. He best put that time to good use.

With a heavy heart Leon turned himself around to gather up the body.

But his movements suddenly came to a freezing halt.

Moments passed in nerve-racking silence. The air in his lungs stopped circulating. His heart stopped palpitating. It even felt like the blood in his veins stopped flowing. He sat unmoving as he stared at the spot beside him. At the spot where he laid Wesker down just last night.

At the spot that was now empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh snap! 😱
> 
> But on another note, we're nearing the end of this fic! It's been fun and part of me doesn't ever want to stop writing this story but I've already thought about how it's going to end. There's probably going to be one more chapter and then the epilogue 😢 I'm so sorry! But I hope you've enjoyed the ride just as much as I have! Thanks so much for reading! xoxo 🖤🖤🖤


	17. January 3rd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *WARNING*
> 
> This chapter contains: Blood, Violence, Gore, Broken Bones, Decapitation and Dismemberment

"Over? I'm just getting started." – Albert Wesker

 

His head was pounding. It felt like someone had taken a hammer to his skull more than a few hundred times. A quiet noise leaked from his throat as he struggled to lift his heavy lids.

Everything was blurry and shrouded in darkness.

 _“Agh…”_ He shook his head, failing to get his thoughts in order. _Where am I?_

 He made an effort to sit up but felt something against him that impended his movements. His eyes flickered down.

Even though he still couldn’t see much, he could make out the distinct shape of another body lying next to his own.

He tried to catch whatever memories that whisked through his brain. But all he could recall were the vague images of laboratory equipment, white coats and reading charts.

Did he work overtime at Umbrella again? Were he and William advancing their progress on the T-virus? Perhaps they were. Perhaps they labored until the early hours of the morning before passing out in one of the offices from sleep exhaustion. Just like they were prone to do many times before. Afterall, it was all in a scientist’s job description to work nonstop until you’ve completed an experiment. No matter how many nights you had to sacrifice.

Wesker rubbed a hand over his face and trailed his fingers up through his tangled hair. It felt like he hadn’t showered for the past two days and if that was the case then he knew Birkin hadn’t showered for at least a week or more. The other man was always neglecting basic hygiene, even more so when they were on the brink of making a discovery. William’s bad habits were starting to rub off on him and Wesker would be sure to voice his complaints out loud when he got the chance.

The tyrant’s vision was still sleep-ridden but he could make out a tuft of longish hair, dirty blond strands that looked so much like William’s. Though, Wesker wondered why on earth the other scientist decided to sleep so close to him. They were colleagues, sure, but Wesker had thought he made his boundaries perfectly clear from the moment they met. He lifted a hand to nudge the unconscious body.

“William?” Wesker spoke, his voice coming out hoarser then he expected. He cleared his throat and tried again but the other man didn’t respond. Wesker leaned in, moving his hand up into William’s hair to sweep it out of his face.

The tyrant’s breaths faltered and he jerked backwards until he was sprawled out on the floor. Eyes wide and vision clearing.

_What the fuck-_

That wasn’t William Birkin.

That was… that was-…?

Wesker didn’t know _who_ that was. It wasn’t a face he recognized. And now that he looked about the room he realized that he wasn’t in Umbrella’s lab. He was in an old and moldering farm house.

_What the fuck is going on?_

He climbed to his feet and stumbled out of the room, running straight into a wall in the process.

“ _fuck…_ ” He gritted out, raising a hand to his face. The room was spinning…

No,

It was his head. It was still throbbing painfully. It felt like he got hit by a train, like he got run over by a diesel truck. He blindly sought out the bathroom and nearly broke the door down in his haste to hunch over the sink. He retched but nothing but stringed saliva and clots of blood splashed into the drain.

Wesker stared at it in shocked silence, his body shivering, feeling cold and disoriented. He lifted his head and caught sight of himself in the cracked bathroom mirror.

His eyes were glowing. Like two individual ringlets of crimson red. But that wasn’t the most alarming aspect on his face. He was covered in blood. The majority of it was caked under his chin and in his hair. Yet when Wesker tilted his head and ran a hand over his scalp he didn’t feel any kind of wound marring his skin.

He took a step back.

_What the hell-_

His heart was thrashing in his chest as the panic began to set in.

What the fuck happened? Where was he? Who was that other man in the room? Did he work for Umbrella? Did something happen? Did that man bring him here? Did that man do this to him?

None of it made any sense.

Before he could go back, before he could demand some answers from the stranger, he heard a noise coming from outside. A distant resonance of far off voices. Wesker’s head perked up at the sound and he keenly made his way out of the bathroom and towards one of the windows that had a view of the world outside.

It was snowing. Heavily. The ground was nothing but a blanket of white fluff. But through the thick mist and snow, Wesker caught a glimpse of a shadow moving through the nearby woods. And not just one, but many more.

A wave of unease perspired over his skin. He had no clue what was about to happen but his intuition told him it wasn’t anything good. He didn’t know who those people were. He didn’t know what they were doing but he knew what it looked like.

And it looked like they were in the process of surrounding the house.

Instead of waiting around for that to happen, instead of leaving himself exposed in a scenario he didn’t even understand, Wesker bolted to the rear of the home. He burst through the back door, dashing across the yard and into the thick of the woods in a blur of movement. He ran as far and as fast as he could.

When his legs couldn’t carry him any further, only then did he stop, chest heaving and heart pounding. He bent over against a tree. Struggling to catch his breath and calm his nerves.

Something dangled below his face.

And Wesker went still; his breaths slowing to a dither.

Before his brain could register that he was moving, his hand came up and tugged at the small bell tied around his neck.

It ringed with a soft chime.

A vivid memory flashed in his mind. He could see someone. Someone smiling at him.

_“Do you remember this?” Leon asked, dangling the satin blue ribbon with the small bell looped around it. Wesker could feel a scowl tightening the lines on his face._

_“How could I forget?”_

////////////////

Leon got to his feet and desperately searched the room in hopes he’d find Wesker’s body somewhere. Maybe behind a piece of furniture. Maybe the breeze rolled it away. Maybe a wild animal had gotten in and dragged it off or something. Leon knew both those possibilities were highly unlikely but he honestly couldn’t think of any other plausible reason why the body was suddenly gone.

It didn’t make any sense.

A noise snapped him out of his current search and the sound of it had every hair standing up on end. That sound…

It sounded like voices.

And they were coming from outside.

The ex-agent’s feet carried him all the way to a nearby window.

When he peered outside, his eyes instantly went wide and he jumped back towards the wall.

“ _No_ , no, no, no…fuck- Shit!” Leon cursed. He recognized those uniforms hiding among the trees. But it wasn’t possible. How the fuck did the BSAA find him so fast? It was still heavily snowing. The weather should’ve covered his tracks.

He turned to leave, to continue his fruitless search for Wesker’s body but then he stopped at the sight of someone already standing in the doorway.

The oxygen fled from his lungs, his legs locked in place.

“Leon.” Claire’s voice was calm on its own but that didn’t ease the tension in the air since she was aiming a gun directly at him. The sight of her nearly had Leon speechless. Partly because of how fast she got the drop on him and partly because she was active in the field so soon after getting injured. Even her arm was still in a brace.

“Claire-” Leon breathed out in astonishment. “-what are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“It doesn’t matter now.” Claire deflected, taking a step into the room. Her eyes glistened with the warring emotions of fear and hurt. “Tell me where Wesker is.”

Leon slowly rose his hands, trying to keep things from escalating.

“Claire, listen to me-”

“No, Leon,” a different voice suddenly cut in and Leon stiffened as Jill suddenly rounded the corner and came into view. She was also holding a gun at the ready. “You listen,” she stated tautly. “There’s a reason there’s just the two of us at the moment.”

Leon’s heart was pounding in his ears and he struggled to keep his breaths in an even rhythm.

“You’ve got agents stationed around the house.” Leon observed.

“Yes, and they’re not going to move until our say so.” reaffirmed Jill. “Tell us where Wesker is.”

“I don’t know.” Leon replied without hesitating.

“Leon,” Claire intoned. He could see the anger along with betrayal heighten in her gaze. “Don’t make this any harder then it needs to be.”

“I’m telling you the truth.”

“Damn it! Is this really how you want it end? We trusted you! And even up until this point we still had faith in you!” Jill shouted at him. “Don’t forget what that bastard did to Chris! What he did to Claire! What he did to _me_!” Jill retorted angrily.

“Jill, I-” Leon fumbled with his words. He didn’t know what he could say to make this situation any less… _worse_. But there wasn’t any doubt that the only way to fix it was to do exactly the thing that he _couldn’t_ do.

“I’m sorry.” Leon apologized in earnest, even though he knew his words probably meant next to nothing at this point, he at least needed to let them know how he really felt about all this. “…to both of you, I’m so sorry. Claire…Chris-…I…” Leon then stared at Claire, hoping she could see the amount of regret in his eyes. “Tell Chris I’m sorry… You know I never wanted any of this to happen.”

A sniff emitted from Claire’s nose, her eyes glazed and red-rimmed but she never lowered her gun.

“It’s not to late, Leon.” Claire appealed. “We can still make this right.”

“Right?” Leon contested after a breath of silence, his tone deliberately changing. “You think using Wesker as a test subject is right?”

A voice over Jill's transceiver suddenly disrupted the exchange between them.

“Valentine! We’ve got a problem!” someone reported. Jill quickly pressed the responder button.

“What is it?” she snapped. Another crackle arouse as the voice answered in distress,

“-footprints-! *crackle* -they’re leading from the back of the house!”

“What?” Jill whispered.

Leon stood in shock. The world felt like it came to a crashing halt.

_Footprints…leading from the house…_

It couldn’t be-

…but what other explanation was there?

 _Wesker…_ Leon’s insides tangled themselves in a cluster of disbelief and trepidation. _He’s really alive._

“What do you mean there’s footprints leading from the house?” Jill demanded.

Her and Claire were so distracted with the alarming news that they didn’t notice when Leon took matters into his own hands. The ex-agent dashed forward and shoved Claire right into Jill. The two women fell out into the hall, leaving the way clear for Leon to dash past them.

“Leon!” Claire called after him. “Don’t go out there!”

But it was too late. Leon burst through the back door and hit the ground running. The moment his feet touched the snow he caught sight of the single line of footprints leading across the yard and all the way to the forest.

_Wesker._

His mind was so focused on finding the older blond that he could focus on nothing else.

“Target acquired!”

“He’s making a run for it!”

“ **Fire**!”

Leon didn’t hear the chain of commands before the sound of bullets shattered the silence. Flurries of snow danced into the wind from where the bullets made impact and Leon reflexively dodged and ducked out of the way. His adrenaline kicked into overdrive; mind sharp and movements swift, as he went all out and ran for his life.

“Shoot him!” someone shouted.

“No! Stop!” That was Claire this time. She had made it to the back door and was calling out for a cease fire. “Don’t shoot him!”

But either they couldn’t hear her or they weren’t listening because the bullets didn’t stop flying.

“I said don’t shoot!” Claire screeched but her voice fell on deaf ears.

Leon’s legs burned with each stride as well as his chest with each frenzied heartbeat. By some great miracle he managed to break through their line of fire and make it into the cover of the trees. But he didn’t stop. He continued to flee further through the woods without ever looking back. It wasn’t like he needed to. Not when he could hear men shouting from behind him. Not when he could hear them loudly giving chase.

The ex-agent pushed his body to go faster. He tried to stay glued on Wesker’s tracks but he somehow lost sight of those in the midst of his desperate retreat. His pursuers were gaining ground and once more they started firing their guns, reckless bullets nearly grazing his skin.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Leon huffed, making an effort to weave through the trees to make himself a harder target. But his technique didn’t hold up forever.

A gunshot, louder than all the others, cut through the air. And it cut right through Leon’s chest. Blood spewed outwards in a crimson mist and Leon’s legs finally gave out. He scraped past a tree, the bark cutting deep into the side of his face as he tumbled down the edge of a slope before coming to a halt at the bottom. Streaks of blood stained the snow in the wake of his plummet, like a scarlet trail that led right to his body.

Voices echoed in the background but they were all a muddled and chaotic mess to Leon's ears.

“I told you not to shoot!” Claire sounded on the brink of hysteria. The crunch of footsteps crested the hill and a loud gasp followed suit.

“Leon! Oh, god!”

“Stand back, Redfield! O’Brian gave us strict orders to do what was necessary.”

 _O’Brian…_ Leon’s thoughts were heavy with pain and exhaustion. He wondered where that bastard was now.

“No! Get away from him! Can’t you see he’s bleeding out?” Claire cried.

“We need to get a medical team here immediately!” He was sure that was Jill’s voice this time. And he was surprised that despite everything that happened, her and Claire were still trying to look out for him. They were still trying to protect him.

“Not until the threat is neutralized!” one of the agents argued.

“Are you crazy? Leon isn’t a threat!” Claire argued.

“That isn’t who I’m talking about!”

More footsteps approached and as they came closer, Leon struggled to lift his head. But he regretted it a moment later because right in front of his face was the barrel of a gun.

“Agent Kennedy, tell us where the B.O.W is.” the man ordered, probably one of the captains in charge of this team.

Leon didn’t answer.

He couldn’t.

He couldn’t even get up.

“Answer me!”

“Stop! That’s enough! He’s going to die!” Jill objected. But the man in front of him didn’t pay her any attention. He took a step forward and jammed his gun against Leon’s forehead.

“You're not going to die until we get what we want out of you...” The captain muttered in disgust. “You fucking traitor.”

His chest exploded in a discharge of gore and bone. Blood drizzled onto the ground and gushed out of his wound in a river-like torrent.

Leon’s eyes went wide, unable to look away from the gruesome sight in front of him.

There was a hand sticking out of the man’s chest. Crimson covered fingers were clutching onto a thick clumpy organ. An organ that was still weakly pulsating. The fingers flexed, squeezing into a tight fist. Squeezing the torn out heart until it was nothing but a bundle of shriveled veins. The captain stared down in horror at what was happening to his own body, until his gaze grew dim and the life faded out of his eyes.

The hand was yanked back out and the body crumpled onto the ground in a heap of loose limbs, revealing the person who stood behind it.

/////////////////

Cold sweat gripped Claire’s face and neck. Droplets trickled down the crease of her spine causing her entire body to shiver. But she suspected it was more out of pure terror then the bitter chill in the air.

“Fuck- _holy shit_.” One of the men uttered aloud before a different voice quickly shouted out a command.

“ **Fire!** Fire at will!”

Gunshots erupted in the forest. Claire could see Leon recoiling from the blasts of bullets that hit the ground hardly in inch from where he was. He tried to scrambled backwards on his arms, tried to get out of the line of fire despite how much blood he was losing. Claire made a move to rush down there and help him but a dark blur of movement obstructed her path as it tore through one target and then another.

One of the men in Claire's line of sight got yanked forward as if by some unforeseen force before his arms were snapped backwards and his neck was twisted in a full rotation. The next victim had his legs ruptured out from under him, his tongue and teeth punched through the back of his throat. Another man was ripped apart limb from limb, his head being severed off last.

The massacre continued. Chests exploded in a rain of blood, painting the snow with long crimson streaks, hearts were ripped out, necks were broken, skulls were crushed in. It went on for what seemed like forever. And when the last of the team were dwindling to a small handful of agents, Claire realized just how far Wesker was going to go in his blind rage for vengeance.

And she wasn’t the only one who noticed.

“Claire, run!” Leon’s voice resonated from the base of the slope. He was hurt, bleeding out, yet he was still putting her wellbeing above his own. Despite everything, despite the fact that he had chosen Wesker over the rest of them, he was still trying to look out for her and Jill. Claire and Jill were two of the few still standing, Jill trying desperately to save what was left of her team, trying desperately to hit the imperceptible tyrant that moved faster than lightning.

“RUN!” Leon bellowed. His voice a blend of panic and fear. And it was most likely for their lives. She then knew that this was a fight that they couldn’t win. Not when Wesker was completely unhinged and volatile as he was now. And though she didn’t want to leave Leon in the cold snow with his injuries, she knew there was nothing they could do. Not without getting killed in the process.

“Jill! We have to go!” Claire called out to her. Jill shot her a look of, ‘are you kidding me?’

“What? No! I’m not leaving my men!” Jill argued.

“There’s hardly any men left! Jill, we have to go. _Now_!” Claire beseeched. But instead of waiting for Jill to come to her senses, Claire rushed over and grabbed her by the arm, pulling with all her strength to get them away from the bloodbath. After some brief scuffling, Jill finally relented and allowed herself to be pulled away.

The two women fled through the forest, making a break for the open highway. The distant echos of gunshots faded far behind them, but Claire mistook that for the range of distance they managed to cover when really, Wesker had finished off the last of their team.

The air suddenly shifted and in the next moment, Albert Wesker appeared in front of them. Bits and pieces of the BSAA agents hugged the fabric of his clothes, the majority of viscera camouflaged in the amount of blood he was covered in. His aura stood out in sharp contrast to the calm snowfall that sprinkled on every surface in the forest, including them.

Claire and Jill halted in their footsteps, their fingers flexing on their guns.

“Did you think I was going to let you two get away?”

His voice matched the growl of a dangerous predator. Savage and menacing.

“Back off, Wesker.” Jill threatened, but there was the slightest tremor in her words.

“Or else what?” Wesker goaded, shifting from one foot to another, looking ready to lunge at them at any moment. “Are you going to shoot me like you shot Leon?”

“We didn’t want that to happen.” Claire tried to defuse the situation, if only to give her and Jill a fighting chance. She knew they were no match for him. His rage only bolstered his strength and speed. The amount of adrenaline that was coursing through his veins could probably equal that of a highbred Cerberus.

“You should go to him.” Jill stated stiffly. “He’s probably waiting for you.” The words sounded conflicted coming from her mouth, but it was probably her best effort to get Wesker to leave them alone.

Wesker’s eyes flashed a deep red. The lines of his jaw tightened in a visible clench before he inclined forward, making it obvious what he was about to do.

“He can wait a few seconds longer.”

The tyrant disappeared faster then either woman could blink.

Claire and Jill took of in a sprint but the redhead already knew it was a fruitless effort. Before she could dodge, before she could even fight back, the tyrant slammed into her side. She heard her bones crack on impact before she felt a blinding pain that flared up from hip to ribcage. A scream was torn out of her lungs but then it was instantly cut off by the grip of a hand squeezing around her throat.

“Claire!” Jill cried, turning around and stopping in her tracks to aim her gun at the tyrant. “Stop! Let her go!” she ordered.

“You know, I’ve thought about ways to kill you.” Wesker said to Claire, ignoring Jill completely. “And most of those scenarios happened in front of your dear beloved brother. Do you know what I’m going to do after I finish you off? I’m going to hunt him down and rip him apart limb from limb. Just like I did to your little friends back there.”

Claire gasped, desperately struggling in his suffocating hold.

“Let her go, Wesker! Don’t you know Leon’s dying as we speak? Do you really want to spend his last moments killing people? Do you want him to die alone?” Jill nearly shouted. Her eyes were turning red and glossy, the notion probably hurting her more than it hurt Wesker but she didn’t know what else to do. Claire’s life was on the line and Wesker wasn’t about to let a single gun stop him.

But her words seemed to take effect because Wesker didn’t make a move to harm Claire any further. Instead, his body had grown completely still and then suddenly, he let Claire go. Vanishing from their sight faster then he had appeared in front of them.

Claire collapsed on ground, coughing in pain, her face a mess of spit and tears. Jill quickly fell to her side, arms protectively circling around her.

“Claire, are you-?” Jill began but she didn’t get to finish before Claire sagged against her and buried her face in her shoulder.

The younger Redfield began to cry.

She cried because of the pain. She cried because she failed. She failed her mission. She failed her team. But worst of all...

She failed Leon.

/////////////

_Cold._

Everything was so cold.

And _painful_.

Leon tried to move his limbs but they were so weak and stiff it was all he could do to press an open palm to his bleeding chest. His breathing was shallow and haggard. He looked down at his torso, at his blood soaked shirt, and then he closed his eyes, focusing on subsiding his erratic inhalations. The smell of blood pervaded the air. The trees were covered in it. His clothes were drenched with it and Leon struggled not to think about where it all came from.

But he couldn’t get the gruesome images out of his head. He had seen the violence. Had seen what Wesker had done to all those people.

Leon had known some of these agents. He’d worked with a couple of them once before. Treated them like comrades. Now… They were all dead. Killed without a shred of mercy. And Claire…

 _Oh god, Claire…_ Leon only hoped that her and Jill had made it out alive. Hoped that they reached the safety of their vehicle to get as far away as possible.

His hopes were shattered when Wesker whooshed after them like a wisp of black smoke.

And Leon was forced to do nothing but watch in helpless terror. Not even a minute later, the young blond heard a blood-curdling scream that rebounded throughout the woods and his heart stuttered to a halt. That voice… It sounded like Claire.

_No…_

His throat tightened at the prospect of Wesker getting a hold of her.

Was he killing her right at this moment?

What was he doing? Was he ripping her apart the same way he ripped apart the BSAA agents? Leon didn’t want to believe it was happening but it was hard to repudiate the mental picture after everything he just saw. The ex-agent opened his eyes to take in the sight of scattered bodies and severed limbs of the deceased men around him. Clumps of gore and splintered bone were amidst the blood that stained the surface of the snow.

The entire scene was a fucking bloodbath.

Had Claire and Jill succumbed to the same fate?

Leon’s breath hitched, his eyes stinging.

He never wanted any of this to happen. Yet it was his fault that it did. If he had never helped Wesker recover…if he had never given Wesker shelter…if he had just turned Wesker in when he had the chance, all these people would still be alive.

_What have I done?_

“Leon.”

Every muscle turned stiff at that voice. His eyes shifted to the top of the slope, where Wesker was staring down at him with searing red eyes. Not even a blink later, the tyrant appeared in front of Leon, flakes of snow swiveling in the air at his sudden presence.

Leon instinctively recoiled from him, scooting himself backwards on his elbows alone. Wesker gave him a confused look and took a step closer.

“Leon-”

“St-stay away-” The words came without thinking and he didn’t even realize that his body started shaking. Wesker’s head tilted away the slightest bit, as if he’d been physically accosted.

“Leon…you know I’m not going to hurt you.” Wesker spoke softly, trying to calm the younger man down. But Leon was far from feeling calm. His injured chest was heaving with his distressed breaths, his eyes becoming more and more translucent as he tried to blink the tears away.

“…what have you done?” Leon could only whisper.

He saw the tyrant’s eyebrows slowly come together in uncertainty. And Leon couldn’t hold it back any longer. His voice boomed in the small space between them, slicing through the deathly silence of the forest.

“What have you done?!”

“What do you mean?” asked Wesker, his expression twisting halfway into a scowl.

“What do I mean?” Leon echoed emptily, before his eyes darted to the destruction around them. “Do you not see?”

“I was protecting you.” Wesker was quick to justify. “They were going to kill you!” he nearly roared and Leon could see his rage returning tenfold, his eyes blazing like the sun.

A feeble whimper crept it’s way past Leon’s lips, making it clear just how scared he was of the man before him. How scared he was of the other possible crimes Wesker had just committed.

“What did you do to Claire and Jill?”

“…Jill’s alive.” The tyrant answered that far too quickly. Perhaps to cover up something else or because he was lying. Either way, it was impossible to tell. Leon could only fall back on Wesker’s word alone. Which wasn’t much to fall on.

“And Claire?” Leon said brokenly, he could feel the tears leaking out from the corners of his eyes; scalding hot all the way to his jawline. “What did you do to her?”

Wesker didn’t say anything for an unbearable amount of time and despite Leon’s mounting fear and anxiety, he finally snapped.

“Did you kill her?!” he demanded.

“No…” Wesker said. Calmly this time and yet that didn’t ease Leon’s dread in the slightest.

“What did you do to her?” Leon repeated angrily. “Tell me what you did!”

“I shattered her ribs!” Wesker responded in a cutting tone that silenced his words. Leon saw Wesker’s eyes burning ever brighter as his lips curled back in a snarl. “ _And she's lucky that’s all I did_.”

Leon struggled to push himself backward along the ground, leaving a large streak of blood behind. The person he was staring at… it wasn’t a person that he was familiar with. This wasn’t  _Al_. No, there was something different about him. Something off. Something missing.

“Why are you moving away from me?”

Wesker’s tone and expression had changed. It had lightened. Turning gentle. As if to soothe the younger man’s rising panic. He followed Leon’s movements in a low crouch, almost mimicking the prowl of a deadly panther. “I told you I wasn’t going to hurt you.”

Leon’s breath was quickening as the tyrant drew nearer. If only because he couldn’t escape him… even if he wanted to.

“Look around…” Leon’s rigid words were his last line of defense. “…look at what you’ve done.”

But Wesker didn’t look. His gaze was solely transfixed on Leon.

“Stop-…” Leon nearly choked on the word when Wesker moved over him like a looming shadow.

“Stop what, Leon?” Wesker asked, his voice a wisp of mist that fanned over Leon’s face. “Stop caring about you?”

An aching sob coughed out of Leon’s lungs, blood flying in specs and landing on Wesker’s face but the tyrant made no move to wipe it away, he only moved closer. Leon rose one of his knees to impede Wesker's advance. Trying in vain to push him away. His lips trembled as he parted them to speak.

“…you’re a monster.”

Wesker’s expression didn’t change from it’s stoic repose, as if Leon’s words held absolutely no affect on him. And Leon realized why a moment later.

“You're right,” Wesker said without any denial.

An alarming feeling of danger scuttled up Leon’s back, causing him to shiver more violently then before. He didn’t know which was worse; the idea that Wesker was deranged and psychotic or the fact that Wesker himself blatantly admitted and accepted just how crazy he really was.

“I _am_ a monster…”

Leon’s body was paralyzed with fear. He could do nothing as Wesker brushed aside his knee and leaned in close enough to lay a hand over his bleeding chest. Close enough to skim cold lips over the shell of his ear and breathe out a whisper of chilling words,

“…but I’m _your_ monster.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you guys so much for the kudos <3 and comments! ^_^ They're all amazing and so are you!!!
> 
> Also note: (maybe some of you have guessed but Wesker isn't in a sane state of mind, especially after that blow to the head)  
> With that said, please read the warning tags for next chapter. I also added some tags. I honestly wasn't sure where I was going to take this but I think it's safe to assume that Wesker might not be showing his gentle side towards Leon anymore.  
> I'm sorry if this upsets anyone! But rest assured, Leon won't be hurt (too much) or at least, he won't be hurt more then he already is.


	18. March 7th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Warning*
> 
> This Chapter Contains: Panic Attacks, Blood, Violence, Stabbing, Threats of Suicide, Rough Sex, Violent Sex, Dubious Consent

"This again huh? Feels like I'm stuck in a goddamn loop." - Leon Kennedy.

The ex-agent stood on a small balcony that overlooked the town of Zürich in northern Switzerland. It was nighttime. The city lights were sparkling on the backdrop like individual stars. Yet despite the serenity of the milieu, Leon couldn’t help but wonder if there was a hitman targeting him right at this very moment. He was in plain view after all.

But moments passed and no gunfire graced his ears. There was only the peace and quiet of the temperate evening.

Maybe the BSAA couldn’t be bothered with an assassination attempt. Maybe they were busy formulating a different plan. Or maybe… they had given up on their manhunt for good. Only time could tell. But it’s been over two months and not a sign of any agents were to be found. Leon wouldn’t blame them if they decided to throw in the towel. He would’ve given up too considering how many lives had already been taken… and how many more were forever ruined.

His thoughts went to Claire and whether or not she made a full recovery. He thought about Jill and whether or not she hated him; about Chris… whether or not he was still alive. Did the brunette ever wake up from his shock-induced coma? Did Claire tell her brother that Leon was sorry for everything that happened? Leon wished he knew but attempting to make contact with any of them would be a foolish mistake. Especially after all the trouble he went through to disappear off the grid.

From attaining a new address under a different alias, creating a fake ID and reemploying himself as a freelance mercenary to earn some cash; any third-party observer would say he spared no effort to erase the person he once was.

Leon pulled out a cigarette from his jacket and flipped on a lighter, rolling the stiffness out of his shoulder at the same time. He never saw himself as a smoker but the tobacco took an edge off the pain. His gunshot wound had healed for the most part but there was still an ever persistent ache that burned all the way through his chest.

He lit the white stick in his mouth and took a long drag, holding it in for a drawn-out moment before slowly exhaling the smoke into the breeze. His thoughts strayed towards the temptation of a drink. He’s been drinking more frequently these days. Hitting up the bars that lined the streets of downtown at odd hours and drowning himself in his own self-pity; if only to get away from the darkness that harassed his every move at home.

It was unsettling.

The way all the rooms felt suffocating. The way the silence sounded overwhelmingly loud. As if he was well and truly alone in this world. But he knew better then to think that. He knew he was never _truly_ alone.

Even though that’s what he asked for.

_“I don’t want to see you again. Just go away!”_

He remembered the moment those words left his mouth. Remembered how Wesker looked. The expression on his face. Cold yet disturbingly composed. Completely unpredictable.

When Wesker had whisked them both out of that forest and to safety, there was no denying how gratifying it was to be in his strong arms. But after they escaped the country, that safe and secure feeling dissipated altogether. Leon had thought long and hard about it and finally, he came to the decision that he didn’t want anything to do with the other man at all. Not after watching the tyrant commit a mass genocide. He was still trying to recover from the scars. Both physical and psychological.

_“Fine.”_

Wesker’s one word response came as a shock even though that’s what Leon had wanted. But he should’ve known better then to take that word for granted.

The tyrant didn’t leave Leon alone. He just made sure Leon couldn’t see him. But even though Leon couldn’t see him, he could still _feel_ eyes on him.

At all times.

Sometimes he’d get a glimpse of red irises that instantly vanished when he blinked. Sometimes the outline of a silhouette before it melted into the dark corners of the room. If Leon didn’t know any better, he’d say that his new residence was haunted.

Except it wasn’t a ghost that stalked his footsteps.

It was Wesker.

And he was waiting.

Waiting for Leon to finally accept him back into his life. It would be a lie to say he hadn’t considered the thought. On more than one occasion. Mainly during the long hours he laid alone in bed, staring through the skylight that bared the moon. He’d find himself wishing on a dying star that a pair of strong arms would come around him. Except they never did.

He spent a lot of sleepless nights like that. Wishing to see Al’s face again. Wishing to touch him again. Kiss him again. Hell…even just _talk_ to him again.

But Leon didn’t allow himself to make any of those wishes come true. Not after what that monster did to the people he knew. If he asked Wesker to come back after witnessing his cruel and brutal nature firsthand…then what did that make Leon?

 _Just as fucked up as the monster himself,_ Leon drily supposed.

So he spent those unforgiving nights isolated in his own mind, ignoring that foreboding presence that was hiding in the shadows. Always within arm’s reach yet just out of sight. It went on from one night to the next. And Leon probably would’ve let it go on for many more nights and many more weeks if he could. Wesker on the other hand, wouldn’t be able to let it go on for a minute longer.

Leon finished the rest of his cigarette and flicked the stub over the railing. He trailed back into the apartment and into the kitchen, seeking out the stock of alcohol he kept in the cupboards for his ever growing addiction. After grabbing a well-used glass from the dish-rack, he turned around and spotted someone waiting for him on the opposite side of the room.

He stopped in his tracks.

Seeing Wesker so suddenly after weeks of not laying eyes on him was a shock for sure, but after being so internally traumatized he was practically numbed to the emotions of pain and sorrow that wanted to enfold around him. The only thing he _could_ feel was the festering ire that listlessly twisted through his gut. He slowly set the glass down on the counter.

“What are you doing here?” Leon’s voice sounded rough, slightly inebriated. Probably due to how often he was drunk these days.

Wesker was giving him a look that reminded Leon of a wild animal. Ever since that day in the woods that look never faded away. It was as if the tyrant had lost some part of himself during those terrible and gruesome events. A part of himself that wasn’t coming back.

Leon turned away from him, looking for the bottle of liquor in his cabinets. Once again ignoring that daunting presence that was just exuding with a menacing aura.

“How much longer, Leon?” the tyrant’s voice sounded unbalanced, teetering on the edge of a razor blade. “How much longer are you going to pretend I don’t exist?”

“Hm…” Leon hummed dismissively.

He was definitely still hungover from yesterday. His finger’s reached up toward the top shelf where they slipped along the bottle of alcohol he was searching for. It fell down towards the tiles and shattered into a puddle of whiskey, the smell making Leon’s nose sting but he didn’t make a move to clean it up. He didn’t make a move to even turn around.

Instead, he rested his palms flat on the counter, his eyes staring at his splayed fingers. For the first time in months his anger began to emerge through the surface of his skin. The air suddenly feeling fragile as he imagined wrapping his hands around Wesker’s throat. All the memories of Chris, all the images of blood, gore, pain and _death_ bombarded his mind like a crippling invasion.

“How much longer…” Leon softly repeated to himself. Before his fingers flexed against the marble and his voice rose an octave louder, “As long as I fucking want.”

The cabinets shattered into wooden splinters when Wesker’s fists smashed on either side of Leon’s head. Leon spun around and fixed Wesker with a bristling glare. His face inclining forward. So close, that the both of them were practically inhaling each other’s space.

“You’re fucking paying for those.” Leon could feel the irritation bubbling in the back of his throat. “You wanna break anything else while you’re at it?”

He could see Wesker’s chest slightly heaving, eyes bathed in crimson light as his own frustration escalated.

“I’ve been patient with you-” Wesker began but Leon didn’t let him finish.

“And you say that like there’s any chance I’m going to forgive you!”

“I wasn’t expecting your forgiveness.”

“Oh really? Then what were you expecting? That I’d still want you? That I’d adore the fact you killed all those people right in front of me?”

“I expected you to still love me!” Wesker retorted, nearly pressing his forehead against Leon’s. “You said you loved every part of me, Leon.” Wesker continued, his voice gradually resembling the closest thing to rationality.

“I was lying.” Leon disparaged, matching the other’s anger in their contest of rage. He could see the intensity in Wesker’s irises spark brighter, gaze narrowing dangerously.

“Lying, huh?” Wesker muttered doubtfully. “Like you’re lying right now?”

That made Leon stiffen up. Partially because it was true. There was a part of him, a part buried under all that tobacco smoke and alcohol, that secretly still yearned for Wesker.

He swallowed the nervous lump in his throat which only helped confirm Wesker’s suspicions.

“Is this about your pathetic friends? Or you self-righteous moral code? Because if this is between me and society then you’re as pitifully incompetent as I thought. You don’t care about your own wants and needs do you? Just as long as humanity’s best interest is held above your own, am I right?” Wesker growled, leaning in closer. “I made a choice for you once before. And I’ll do it again.” the words were more of a threat then a comfort. And Leon finally lost it.

He struck out and cuffed Wesker across the face.

The slap resonated throughout the room.

Leon’s breaths were thin, his heart quaking from the reminder of Wesker’s suicide. Yet he couldn’t let go of his rising temper that consumed him entirely.

“Don’t you _ever_ do that to me again.” Leon muttered forcefully, the familiar burn of incoming tears stung in his eyes. “Now move out of my way.”

Wesker interjected with a challenging stare.

“ _No_.”

Leon’s hands clutched onto the edge of the countertop hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

“I’m not fucking around, Wesker. Get out of my way!” Leon barked with the intensity of a menacing wolf. But Wesker did the exact opposite. He pressed forward, crowding Leon against the edge of the counter and aligning their bodies together. Leon could feel an alarming hardness pressing into his hipbone and when he looked back into Wesker’s eyes he could see that his pupils were blown wide, his expression a reflection of depravity. His face was close enough for Leon to feel the brush of his lips against his own with each spoken word,

“That’s the first time you’ve touched me in months.”

Leon was left speechless for a brief moment before he swiftly recomposed his adamant self-control.

“Back. Off.” Leon accentuated. He feared that doing anything else might set the tyrant off. So he put as much force and resentment behind his words as he could. “I won’t say it again.”

“And if I don’t?” Wesker provoked him. “What are you going to do to me?” his sinful growl sounded eager more than anything else.

“You really wanna go down that road? Because it’s not going to feel pleasant.” Leon growled back threateningly. “Now back the hell off!”

In the heat of his anger he pushed Wesker but he realized his mistake a moment too late. His wrists were instantly seized and before Leon could put up a fight, his back was slammed onto the smooth surface of the counter.

He struggled as Wesker moved between his legs. A hand racked down the front of his torso, shredding his shirt straight down the middle in one swipe. Leon kicked him, or tried to, but he couldn’t land a direct hit with Wesker wedged between his thighs. He tried to jerk his hands free from Wesker’s one-armed hold but the tyrant’s grip was like solid steel.

“Let me- go!” Leon huffed, fighting as hard as he could, fury and panic surging through his lungs and chest, causing his breaths to turn harsh and heavy.

“And where would you go? There isn’t a place where I wouldn’t follow.” Wesker stated.

Leon spit a gob at him. The wad landed across the tyrant’s face but instead of wiping it away, his tongue flicked out to clean it up.

“You’ve lost your fucking mind.” Leon uttered.

Wesker struck out in a flash of anger, backhanding Leon across the cheek. The force of the blow knocked the younger man’s head to the side and dots of blood sprinkled onto the white surface of the marble. Leon was shocked into silence, a thin stream of blood running out of his nose. He was more hurt at the fact that Wesker actually hit him then at the physical pain itself. Yet he wasn’t deluded into thinking Wesker legitimately meant any harm because if he did, then his neck would’ve been broken.

Regardless of the _love-tap_ , Leon aimed a furious scowl up at him.

“I thought you said you’d never hurt me.” Leon seethed.

Wesker smoothed his hand down the definition of Leon’s abdomen, holding that infuriated gaze with those bright red eyes. His palm came to a stop at the front of the younger man’s pants, rubbing against the growing hardness there. And Leon didn’t even realize when he’d gotten hard. He suddenly felt the embarrassment and shame darken his cheeks.

“Am I hurting you, Leon?” Wesker asked in a devious hush. “Because I think you actually _enjoy_ getting slapped around.”

Leon’s teeth painfully grated together as he strained his neck up in an effort to level Wesker with a look that could kill.

“I swear to fucking god-” he gnashed out but he choked on his own words when Wesker’s hips gave a harsh thrust. The force of it stole Leon’s oxygen but it caused such an intense amount of friction to his dick that it rapidly swelled in his jeans. His heart pounded out fiery blood that filled his veins with desire. The tyrant leaned down to mouth up Leon’s bare chest with eager kisses.

“Swear to me then.” His breathless words harmonized a yearning purr.

 _Fuck-_ Leon’s body felt like it was instantly set aflame. His cock growing excruciatingly hard and full. Ready to burst without even being touched. He blamed it on abstinence. He blamed it on all the long and lonely nights he spent in his own solitude. It wasn’t like he actually wanted this.

He just couldn’t stop his body from reacting to Wesker’s touch. Couldn’t stop his own hips from involuntarily rolling up against the other man for more of that sweet friction. He heard Wesker groan, felt the vibrations against his skin. And the sound of the other man’s pleasure almost ripped Leon’s climax right out of him.

 _God I’ve missed you,_ Leon wanted to sigh out loud. But instead he clamped his mouth shut, almost biting his own tongue off in the process.

This was all wrong. This was _so very wrong_. Even though it felt _so_ right. But after everything…all the fucked up things that Wesker did, all the pain he caused… it made Leon remember that pleasure was the last thing he wanted from the other man. Not that he even wanted anything from him to begin with. Other than for him to disappear.

Because if Leon was being truly honest with himself, he was _angry_. Angry at the past. Angry that he was letting this happen. Angry at his own body. And fucking pissed that Wesker was taking advantage of that.

Leon was able to wrench one of his hands free and he clutched the nape of Wesker’s neck. He violently racked his fingers down his back, nails like clawed thorns dug in so deep that they tore through Wesker’s shirt and into his flesh. Leon felt the hot gush of blood tingle his fingertips and felt the heat of it spread throughout the rest of his limbs, making every nerve spark in satisfaction.

Wesker’s growl reverberated against his throat and in the next moment, teeth sank into his neck. Leon’s vocal chords ruptured in a loud cry when sharp canines broke through skin and tore into muscle. He shot his hand up into Wesker’s hair, clutching a handful of golden strands before giving a ruthless yank. He heard a rough sound escape the tyrant before he retracted his jaw.

Rivulets of blood trickled from the wound in Leon’s neck, no doubt in the shape of possessive bite marks. There was blood staining the corners of Wesker mouth, his eyes turning as dark as the sacred night outside.

Leon contemptuously threw the handful of hair at him.

With a snarl, Wesker flipped him over so that his stomach was now pressed flat against the counter. He shredded the remainder of Leon’s shirt off and the younger blond tried to kick him away, tried to elbow him, throw him off, anything. But then Wesker took a hold of his hair and slammed his face into the marble surface. The world tilted and faded but Leon could sense the warmth of Wesker’s frame hovering over him, felt the graze of his nose and chin in the hollow of his spine, the wet flick of his tongue as it dipped in the crease of his lower back before dragging all the way up to his shoulder blades.

“You’re _mine_.”

Leon shivered at the sound of those ravenous words. Though regardless of the lust and hunger those words instilled in his very core it also ignited another onset of anger. How dare that psychotic fucker manipulate his body like a helpless marionette.

 Leon’s eyes flicked over to the knife-block that sat just within range.

“I told you to back the fuck off.” Leon rumbled. He felt another languid lick that traced the indentions of his vertebrae.

“You really think I’m just going to do what you tell me from now on? I’m not your _pet_ , Leon. If anything, it’s the other way around.”

Leon’s hand whipped forward faster than the lash of a viper, snatching one of the knives out of its casing and stabbing it directly through the hand that was resting beside his head. He plunged the blade as far as it would go into the countertop, effectively impaling the tyrant’s hand in place.

A shout of agony pierced his eardrums and Leon quickly kicked Wesker back far enough to turn around and grab him by the neck in a harsh grip, his other hand holding up another knife.

“I fucking warned you.” Leon pressed the blade to Wesker’s throat.

But Wesker didn’t tense in the slightest. He didn’t even flinch. He just stared at Leon with wide starstruck eyes, looking like he’d fallen in love all over again. He even started to gravitate towards the younger man once more. And Leon tried using the knife to hold him at bay but it didn’t work. Wesker willingly moved into the sharp edge of the blade, blood welling up from under the steel.

“Stop!” Leon ordered. “You fucking sadist! You just don’t care do you?”

Wesker’s eyes were glazed with lust, his breaths hot and heavy. When he got close enough he licked a long wet trail over Leon’s lips and cheek like a fucking animal.

“You’re worth the pain.” The words were caught between a growl and a moan. He yanked his impaled hand out from the knife that was embedded in the countertop, his other hand clutching Leon’s wrist in a grip so strong that the bones underneath scraped together. Leon stiffened but otherwise didn’t move as Wesker flung the knife that was in his fingers across the room. It clattered somewhere in the background.

Wesker then seized Leon’s cheek in his palm, the one covered in blood yet already healing, and the younger man’s face was forced forward to collide with a pair of hungry lips. Leon recoiled at the crimson substance that was quickly drying on the side of his face and he rose his arms to push against Wesker’s chest, desperately jerking back to get away from him. Wesker forced his tongue inside his mouth, his teeth scarping against Leon’s own as he devoured him in a violent kiss. Leon could barely breath, his nose and lungs burning.

Out of ideas and out of oxygen, Leon bit down as hard as he could. The taste of blood coursed over his tongue. With another snarl, Wesker shoved him away and slammed him flat against the counter. There was blood dripping down the tyrant’s chin but he didn’t take the time to wipe it away. His fingers were busy digging into the denim of Leon’s jeans with an animalistic fervor, eager to remove that last layer of fabric that separated them.

“Get off of me.” Leon hissed, shoving at him.

His warning went ignored as Wesker moved a hand down to force one of Leon’s legs over his shoulder. His other hand grabbed Leon’s neck, not tight enough to choke him but harsh enough to pin him in place.

Leon lashed out with reckless strikes, furiously clawing at anything he could get a grip on. His hands snagged onto the front of Wesker’s shirt, nails tearing through what was left of the clothing to reach his skin. He carved them down the span of his torso, leaving long red welts behind. Wesker emitted a carnal groan under the contact of Leon’s fingers even though he could only be feeling nothing but pain. His shirt fell away in ribbons and regardless of the depth of those scratch marks, they were already healing before Leon’s eyes.

Seeing those wounds fade away drew Leon’s attention to the vast disadvantages he was at, the vast differences between them. The difference that Wesker wasn’t human.

 _Was he ever human to begin with?_ Leon couldn’t stop his mind from spiraling in the midst of this chaotic power struggle.

_The man I fell in love with…_

Pictures of Wesker during their day to day life from what seemed like ages ago flashed through his head.

_He seemed so human…_

_He smiled like he was human. He even **laughed** like he was human._

Leon remembered their first kiss.

_He even felt human._

Leon then remembered Chris. The agents. Jill and Claire.

**_But he’s not human._ **

He rose his knee up, forcing it between their bodies and then he used all the strength in his leg to forcefully kick Wesker backward. He must have caught the tyrant off guard because he went flying a few feet back and into a wall.

The air suddenly went stagnant, followed by silence. The only noise in the room was their leaden breaths hovering in the air. Wesker had already recovered from the blow but surprisingly, he didn’t make any attempts to retaliate. Leon couldn’t read the expression on his face as it was set anew with a frosty leer. He tensed under the scrutiny and waited for Wesker’s next move.

But Wesker merely straightened up against the wall and gave the younger man an intimidating look.

“Do you want me to leave, Leon?” Wesker finally asked, his eyes and voice still dark with desire but he kept himself out of reach.

Leon didn’t say anything. He didn’t know if he wanted to.

Half of him, the half that was still in love, wanted Wesker to stay and never leave his side. The other half, the morally encompassed half, wanted Wesker to disappear forever and just cease to exist. For the sake of the world if not for the sake of all the people he cared about.

He didn’t answer and Wesker didn’t wait for one because he could plainly read every flicker of emotion that crossed Leon’s face at the rise of those conflicting decisions.

A ghost of a wicked curve enticed the edge of the tyrant’s mouth.

“What do you think is going to happen if I leave you here? Where do you think I’m going to go?”

The temperature in the room dropped into the negatives at his intonation.

_He isn’t… he isn’t suggesting…_

But that chilling smile grew as the realization dawned on the younger man.

“Did you ever consider what would happen to your little friends if I decide to pay them a visit again? I suppose I might as well since I have all the time in the world. I wonder how Chris is doing. Do you think he’s up and walking by now? Or maybe he’s bound by a wheelchair.”

That cold isolating feeling sank into Leon’s bones, suspending the blood in his veins. And when he heard Wesker’s diabolical chuckle, that icy feeling gave rise to a sizzling blaze.

He couldn’t stand it anymore.

His hand instantly seized the knife beside him and he threw it at the tyrant. It spiraled through the air at lightning speed and embedded itself in Wesker’s shoulder. Blood spurted from the wound but quickly subsided to an idle flow.

The other man looked down, seemingly unfazed, before raising a hand to grasp the handle. Without hesitating he yanked it out. Dark scarlet streams gushed from the release of the obstruction and trickled over the pale contours of his chest and abdomen. He looked back at Leon before slowly lifting the knife to his face, hot breath fogging up his reflection in the metal as his tongue snaked out to lick up the blood. The blade then dropped lower, until the tip of it was pointing at his throat. His eyes never lost their intensity, never lost their obsessive focus on Leon.

And it was nothing short of macabre.

“Want me dead that badly?” His words sounded just as impulsive as the look on his face. Like he was willing to do anything as long as he could have Leon’s attention. Anything at all. Whether that was threatening the lives of Leon’s friends or threatening his very own, there was no line that Wesker wasn’t going to cross.

He’s already crossed it once before.

“It took me three days to come back last time. I wonder how long it’ll take again-”

“STOP!” Leon frantically shouted, his voice shaking. His hands were shaking. His whole world felt like it was cracking under an unbearable amount of pressure. He was instantly on his feet. In two precarious strides he was in front of Wesker, hands clutching onto his arm in a desperate attempt to force the knife away.

“Don’t you realize what you’re doing to me?” Leon breathed through clenched teeth. His vision was becoming distorted, everything misty and his eyes…they _hurt_. His mind was telling him to just let Wesker do it or to just stab Wesker and be done with it. To put a stop to him…if only to gain a few days of reprieve.

But his heart was telling him not to. Reminding him what Wesker looked like with those white empty eyes, the blood that covered his hair and neck. How Leon’s body ached after carrying that lifeless corpse for miles on end. How his heart ached…

_No._

He couldn’t go through that again.

Something jingled in his ear and Leon’s gaze shifted down to see the small bell tied around Wesker’s neck. His eyes widened at the sight of old blood staining the blue silk and at the rust that corroded parts of the delicate metal. Looking ready to dissolve into dust.

Leon became immobilized, his breaths stuttering as if someone was physically strangling the oxygen out of his lungs. His anger, his sadness… his _longing_ , it was all stacking on top of him. Burying him in an ocean of suffocating emotions that he couldn’t navigate out of. The room grew smaller. His limbs began tingling from fingers and toes to arms and legs. Until everything felt numb. Overwhelmingly numb.

“ _Al…_ ” it was nothing but a whimper, a soft cry for help, a cry for the person he remembered falling in love with. The person that never would’ve let him fall this deep into the darkness.

A metallic clatter assailed his ears after the knife was dropped onto the floor. He felt the shock of a tender caress when his face was clasped in a pair of affectionate hands. His vision was still hindered by black spots and prickling tears but he could see the shadow of Wesker’s form looming over him. In the next moment, he felt a familiar warm slickness claim the side of his face, tracing the winding path of a lone tear that escaped. A diminutive sigh drifted through Leon’s ears.

“You shed the sweetest tears when you’re sad.” Wesker whispered, giving another erotic swipe of his tongue that ended just below Leon’s eye. “Such sweet sorrow...”

Leon was powerless, oxygen completely ripped from him. Here he was in the middle of a fucking panic attack and Wesker… Wesker was getting off on it. He braced his arms against the older blond, attempting to push him away. But Wesker only tightened his hold on him and the next thing Leon knew, they were suddenly in his bedroom, his body falling through the air before his back hit the bed. In the blink of an eye the tyrant was on top of him, pressing down on him, keeping him pinned while one hand undid his jeans and pulled them away.

He wasn’t being as aggressive with Leon anymore but perhaps it was because Leon couldn’t exactly fight back while he was simultaneously fighting against his mounting anxiety. The younger man was still struggling to pull air into his lungs, still straining his eyes to focus clearly, toiling to get his thoughts in order. But he couldn’t. Because Wesker had his pants swiftly removed; had his legs forced apart so he could dip between them, so he could drag his mouth down the length of his torso and kiss a blazing trail to his cock which was still hard and heavy. Still desperate for release despite everything… despite his chaotic state of mind.

He’s never felt so fucked up in his life.

Wesker’s warm mouth grazed over the tip and Leon’s whole body tensed, the veins in his arms flexing as his fingers twisted in the bedsheets. One hand shot down to Wesker’s hair, grabbing a fistful of blond tresses and feebly pulling in protest.

“N-no-” Leon stuttered; his words failing him as a crafty tongue circled the head of his manhood before lips fully descended and took him in slowly. He gasped. Throat and lungs feeling constricted. Feeling suffocated.

_I can’t breathe-… I can’t…_

He tried to calm his mind. Tried to remember those lessons from the academy. Those crucial tips and tricks to utilize in the event of having a breakdown.

 _Breathe like you’re running. Deep breaths like your running…_ His inner monologue chanted. But despite opening his mouth, no air flowed down his throat. It was as though some invisible blockage prevented him from inhaling.

Wesker swallowed around him and it had Leon’s joints locking up. He fought to regain control of himself, fought the cusp of his climax. But that lovely and _sinful_ mouth lavished over him like a devoted worshiper. And when the tyrant’s throat constricted around him a second time, it sent Leon over the edge. He let loose a primal shout as a tremor rolled down his spine. The world dimmed and faded into complete darkness. It was like someone punched a hole right through his chest because a rush of air instantly liberated his lungs and he could finally breathe again.

He panted harshly, heart hammering in his ears, bones trembling. His mind a blank slate of fleeting bliss.

Wesker didn’t wait for him to recover. His head moved lower, hands wrapping under Leon’s knees to push them further apart.  And Leon nearly choked on his breath when he felt the wet slide of a tongue between his cheeks. He flushed a deep red and his back receptively arched off the bed when Wesker licked against his rim before pressing inside.

Leon’s teeth clenched down to stifle an involuntary moan. Each stroke of Wesker’s tongue had his thighs trembling in effect. And when Wesker pressed in further, when that soft wet appendage caressed his inner walls and brushed against that susceptible bundle of nerves deep inside, Leon nearly sobbed in pain from the heat that swelled his sensitive cock.

His grip in Wesker’s hair tightened, fingers pulling urgently. His chest fluttered, his breaths turning papery thin and once again he found himself unable to breathe. The room was sweltering, the air oppressive, everything felt hot and overheated. He weakly kicked against Wesker’s ribs and it seemed to work because the tyrant lifted himself away and stared back at him.

Leon didn’t even have the time to tremble under that feral gaze before Wesker reached out to take his hips in a fortified grip that could crumble concrete. The younger man literally felt the bruises forming under the press of those sinewy fingers and it made him want to vocalize his discomfort out loud but his mouth was sealed shut by a pair of lips that captured his in a fiery kiss.  _Fuck,_ he could taste himself on Wesker and it tasted bitter and hot and just overall taboo.

The flick of a button and the pull of a zipper had Leon’s hair rising as the tyrant undid the front of his jeans. It caused him to put up another fight but his attempts were fruitless. He soon felt a hard and hot press against his entrance, felt hands on his hips lift him slightly. And then felt Wesker press in, the head of his erection breaching past his slick rim.

Wesker groaned against Leon’s mouth, his pelvis continuing to inch forward, sinking more of himself inside. Leon trembled under him, sweat glistening on his skin like fine minerals. He whimpered, either from the pain or from the intense pressure that accumulated in his gut, he wasn’t sure. But he didn’t want to admit or accept that any of this felt good even though his own cock was already half hard. And it became fully erect when Wesker canted his hips and buried the rest of himself to the hilt.

The weight of his thrust had Leon crying out in pain, the friction in his inner walls burning like raw alcohol. He impulsively shot his hand forward, slapping Wesker across the face with a harsh _smack_. He used enough strength to pitch the tyrant’s head to the side, causing his cheek to darken with a bruise.

The other man stilled and Leon shuddered out a labored breath. Wesker turned his head back toward him, the redness on his cheek quickly disappearing, and the younger man braced himself for whatever was coming next, expecting the worst, expecting more pain.

But he didn’t expect what happened next.

Wesker slowly rolled his hips forward, his mouth imparting a breathy moan,

“Hit me again.” Wesker raised his arm to brace the headboard above them but instead, his fingers ended up crushing through the wood and into the brick-wall behind it, splinters and crumbs of concrete rained down onto the pillows. He gave another thrust downward and it caused Leon to bite down a whimper that betrayed his own conviction. The younger man rose his hand again and launched it sideways, striking the tyrant’s other cheek. It only made Wesker groan in pleasure, his body bearing down on Leon with more fervor, his next thrust more forceful.

“ _Yes!_ Just like that.”

And it had Leon seeing stars, had his heart racing and his cock aching for another release. Each thrust teased that dark and secrete place inside him, every rub and stroke sent a wave of pleasing euphoria that overrode his sense of sight, smell, and touch. He relinquished an unabashed moan, unable to hold back his surging desire.

 “ _Ahh!_ … _Al!_ ” Leon cried out. His debauchery must have struck a chord within the tyrant because his next thrust possessed the kind of strength that could shatter his pelvis and cripple the bed. It had Leon’s whole body aching and shaking from the force of it. And he cried out again, this time in agony. Tears instantly emerged in his eyes and his hands clawed at Wesker’s shoulders and back. Torn between shoving him away and clinging on for dear life. Another one of those thrusts proved more then he could take.

“Wesker!” Leon’s voice cracked once the pain crossed his threshold. “St-stop- _please!_ ” the younger man whined, his tears seeping from the corners of his eyes.

Much like before, Wesker licked them up, his hips never faltering from their persistent search for completion. The jostling of his thrusts had Leon’s breaths stuttering into sobs. Wesker kissed him, swallowing his whimpers.

“You don’t really want me to do that.” the tyrant murmured against his mouth, tongue slipping in to suppress more of those soft noises. His eyes flashed a violent red. Impossibly red. And the hand that was on Leon’s hip tightened hard enough to crush bone.

 _He’s going to kill me…_ Leon thought in distress. _Whether he wants to or not he’s going to kill me._ Leon’s hands fell away from Wesker’s back and shoulder. He reached up along the bed, blindly searching under the case of a pillow, feeling around until his fingers touched the cool metal of his Broken Butterfly Revolver. His heart thrashed wildly in his chest as he slid it out from underneath the sheets. Flashbacks of that day in his apartment, images of the last time he held a gun to Wesker’s head took over his mind.

_I don’t have a choice.... He’s out of control. He’s hurting me and he doesn’t care!_

The gun clicked in his hand as his thumb mechanically pulled back the hammer. Wesker’s eyes flashed up and looked at him, catching sight of the magnum’s muzzle aimed right between his eyes.

Instead of looking shocked. Instead of freezing on the spot… he just smiled.

A wayward and shameless smile.

_He doesn’t care…_

And he didn’t stop what he was doing. He didn’t stop moving, he didn’t stop _thrusting_. The only change he made was bringing his hand down from Leon’s hip and to his hard cock. His fingers teased around the base of the younger man’s erection before wrapping around it and stroking up and down in counter-time with his thrusts. Leon hitched, his body seized up, the pressure in his loins smoldered and boiled over the top.

Without warning he came with a shout of pain and ecstasy, arrested in waves of spasms and quivers. They washed over his body like an unpredicted hurricane. He could feel his inner passage constricting around Wesker, pulling him in, greedily trying to steal the other man’s climax. And as a result, an uncontrollable growl rumbled past the tyrants lips. His hand left Leon’s spent cock to smash through the wall alongside his other one. Red eyes squeezed shut, lips parceled a fraction of an inch while every muscle stretched and flexed over the course of his torso and arms. A thread of saliva leaked from the crook of Wesker’s mouth as a name tumbled past his lips,

“ _Leon-”_ He was on the very edge. On the cusp of reaching his peak. And Leon could already feel the bone crushing dread compress his whole being. That conscious voice of terror relentlessly and ruthlessly dragged all his hidden fears out into the open.

_He’s going to kill you he’s going to kill you he’s going to kill you-_

_Stop him!_

_Shoot him!_

_He’ll crush your bones! He’ll turn you into dust!_

The bell that dangled around Wesker’s neck cracked and broke off, landing on the bed in rusted pieces. But the older blond didn’t seem to notice. Or even care.

_Just like that…_

_You don’t mean anything to him._

_Chris, Claire, Jill... He won't stop at you either._

A scream ruptured Leon’s throat at the mental images that flocked his mind and he pulled the trigger. The sound of a gunshot blasted through his eardrums. Blood splashed onto his face and chest.

At the last second before the revolver went off he stooped it lower so that it leveled Wesker’s shoulder instead of his head. The magnum-round blew the tyrant right off the bed and sent him spiraling onto the floor.

“ _Fuck_ -” the word was bitten between a snarl and a dark coveting moan. Leon could still partially see him from the bed.

Wesker was flat on his back, head tilted against the carpet, eyes glazed and breaths shallow. His hand pressed into the wound on his shoulder, expression twisting slightly as blood welled between his fingers. He pulled them back and lifted them above his face, attention clearly spellbound by the pain Leon had caused.

His crimson eyes slid shut, head angling further in an arc, hair splaying against the floor as a shudder raked through him. The color of his cheeks changed from pink to shiny red as his mouth parted to make way for a broken sigh.

“ _Leon_ \- _Ah! Leon_ - _!_ ” He came without even touching himself, whimpering out Leon’s name in the end.

And Leon could do nothing but watch in mute shock. An outpouring of fear so primal and concentrated hit him harder than anything else ever had before.

Out of all the zombies and mutated abominations he’s faced throughout his life, none of them could ever scale on this level of horror. Because the only thing scarier than a horde of zombies and murderous freakshows… was the notion of being in love with one.

Leon staggered off the bed and rushed into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him and barring it with his body. His chest rose and fell in erratic respirations. Sweat once hot and steamy turned cold and clammy on his skin. His arms shook as they pressed into the surface of the egress and he scrunched his eyes shut, fighting against the rise of panic that steadily began to build.

_Lay down… I need to lay down- I need-…_

He needed a fucking cigarette and a shot of whisky. But he didn’t have any of those things at the moment. So he opened his eyes and settled his blurry sights on the bathtub.

He blindly ran his fingers behind him along the frame of the door, moving disjointedly until they ran into the handle. He frantically locked the door before pushing himself further into the room, doubtful that it would keep Wesker at bay but it was more for his own peace of mind. He stumbled sideways, hardly registering his clumsy footsteps. Hardly realizing the moment he reached the porcelain edge of the tub. He unconsciously slid himself in and sank to the bottom of the basin, closing his eyes again to try and calm himself further, only to pass out before long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter turned out waay too long and I had to cut it in half because I was already exceeding the 7,000 word mark and I don't like posting chapters that are 10,000 words. So I decided to just end it here and make the next chapter the last. (Hopefully) Whenever I'm writing, things end up differently then I expected (or longer then I expected) lol
> 
> As always, thank you guys so much for the awesome comments and kudos! <3 they really mean so much to me ^_^ 
> 
> Also, here is some lovely fan art from the very talented Artgoettaes:  
> https://guettaes.tumblr.com/post/187689315234/heres-the-drawing-wesker-x-leon-there-will  
> Thank you so much for drawing and sharing this! It's amazing! <3 <3 <3


	19. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for all the comments 🥰 And Kudos! 🖤 You guys have been absolutely wonderful and I can't thank you enough for coming along for the ride! It's been awesome writing this story and I'm sad that it's coming to an end 😭 But I hope you all enjoyed it and again, thank you for reading!!!

         "Wesker deserved what he got. You did what was right - you kept this world safe." - Piers Nivans.

 

          He felt warm. The kind of warm that was balmy and calm like the smooth tides of a beach. Leon gradually stirred awake, his limbs and eyelids heavy. Sluggish. He tried to shake his head to clear away the fog but he soon realized that it wasn’t fog that hindered his sight. It was steam. The room was filled with it and his ears prickled at the sound of a faint pitter-pater coming from outside.

_Rain?_

 Before he could get his bearings, something brushed up against him. It was an odd sensation. Almost diluted-like. When Leon looked down he realized why.

 He was still in the tub and he’s probably been in here for a couple of hours based on the discoloring of his skin. Blue and black impressions that decorated his hips and ribs. Even darker ones that fell like shadows between his thighs. But that wasn’t the most alarming detail about this whole scene because the tub was now filled with water, warm and temperate with clusters of bubbles.

And Wesker was here.

He was pressed close between Leon’s legs, so close that he was touching nearly every part of him. The tyrant’s face was bent against his neck. Something wet glided over Leon's throat and he felt a tongue chafe against the frayed edges of dead skin. His bite mark. Memories from last night soon wallowed up from the dark recesses of his mind and he became fully alert to his surroundings. He winced under Wesker's attention and automatically raised his hands to the other's shoulders, wanting to push him away but his movements were so weighted and weary that he doubted Wesker even took notice of his endeavors.

The younger blond's attention shifted towards the bathroom door where pieces of wood laid on the tiles in splinters. It was surprising that he'd slept through it being broken down but it wasn’t surprising that the thin barrier hadn’t been able to keep the tyrant away. Leon should’ve known better. But then, there wasn’t a lot of options in the end. As Leon's been told, there wasn’t a place he could go where Wesker wouldn’t follow.

What little energy Leon had soon ebbed away. His head was turning foggy, as foggy as the damn room. It was getting harder and harder for him to stay awake. The temperature was too humid, his body hurt, and all he wanted to do was close his eyes and just go to sleep.

But he couldn't sleep. Not with Wesker invading his personal space, mouthing up his neck, caressing his skin…bathing him.

It was almost funny.

Leon remembered a time when it was the other way around. When _he_ was the one taking care of Wesker.

 _How times have changed,_ Leon couldn’t help but inwardly pine. He turned his head away, chin quivering at those old memories. His teeth caught his lower lip, worrying over it, trying to stifle whatever pathetic whimpers that threatened to knot his throat.

“…I’m sorry.” Wesker’s voice, though slightly muffled against his neck, was always a timbre that Leon liked to hear…even now, despite the fucked up circumstances. Yet he was rather shocked at hearing those words, not just because of their sudden tenderness, but because of their outright impudence. It almost made him scoff aloud.

 “And what are you sorry for?” Leon’s tone wavered, struggling to keep his emotions in check. “For nearly killing me during sex?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you-”

This time Leon really did laugh aloud, an empty and hollow laugh.

“So that was you being gentle? Gee, I’d hate to see what rough sex would be like.” Leon snarked, but there wasn’t any humor in it. More like cold and isolated detachment.

Wesker fell silent. And after a while, Leon began to think that maybe Wesker wouldn’t say anything. Maybe he would up and leave. Maybe he’d finally leave Leon alone. Perhaps for a few hours or better yet, forever.

He tried to push for it, to push Wesker away. If not with raw strength, then with words.

“You could’ve killed me.” Maybe playing on  Wesker’s guilt would get him to go away.

But Wesker didn’t leave. He stayed exactly where he was. Head still down to where Leon couldn’t see his expression, though he could hear the steady resolution in his tone.

“I would’ve brought you back.”

That made every bone in Leon’s body turn brittle. He wasn’t aware that he’d even stopped breathing, so enraptured and horrified at those words.

“ _What?_ ”

Was Wesker actually suggesting what Leon thought he was suggesting?

The younger blond was speechless. And he could hardly get his head wrapped around the concept. Though, now that he thought about it, he supposed he really shouldn’t have been so shocked. After every encounter that they’ve had, it’d be naïve to think he hadn’t already gotten a piece of Wesker’s DNA inside him. Though, it was a wonder that Leon hadn’t felt anything change and he suspected that it was because the virus had to directly enter his bloodstream in order for that to happen.

Would Wekser really go there? Would he force Leon onto an autopsy table and hook him up for a blood transfusion? Work on him like he was one of Umbrella’s lab experiments?

The image made Leon shudder. Hell, the image of living in a world forever bond to Wesker made him quiver in his skin. He didn’t want to think about that kind of life. He didn’t want to think about a cycle that would repeat itself, where Leon would always be brimmed full of pain and anger and violence… with nothing but Wesker’s presence forever tormenting him.

The tyrant moved back a little, eyes roving over Leon’s trembling form.

“Leon?”

Leon sucked in a sharp intake of air through his teeth. He looked at Wesker, looked into those red burning eyes, struggling to find anything… anything that still resembled a shred of the person he fell in love with.

It was hard to find anything resembling that when all he could see was a demented stranger staring back at him.

“…and what if I don’t want to come back?” Leon breathed out.

The air became stale and Wesker went completely still. His eyes unblinking as he held Leon’s gaze. And Leon wasn’t sure what was about to happen. With each passing moment he could feel his heart beating faster and faster, every muscle drawing tight in apprehension. He expected Wesker to lose himself again. Expected Wesker to hit him, hurt him, hell…even _drown_ him. But the thought of dying honestly didn’t frightened Leon as much as it frightened him to live an undying life with the tyrant.

But what happened next completely caught Leon off guard.

Wesker didn’t moved. He didn’t even blink.

But his eyes changed.

A small huff of disbelief left Leon’s parted mouth as he watched the light of Wesker’s eyes grow dimmer, until the redness faded into a paler color, a bluer color.

A _human_ color.

And then Leon saw those eyes turn glassy, filled with liquid, before a tear ran down the side of his face and then dripped into the water.

He's never seen Wesker cry before. In fact, he's pretty sure Wesker's never cried in his entire life. Yet here he was in this moment grieving like someone had just died.

“You hate me?” It wasn’t exactly said in a question but Leon could sense the hint of disbelief and dejection in his tone. And the very sound of it had Leon wishing he could take it all back. Because in spite of everything that Wesker was, the murderer that killed hundreds of innocent people, the monster that nearly killed his friends, the madman that wanted to take over the world…regardless of it all, the fact that he was still capable of showing an emotion other than feral anger proved that he was still the man that Leon loved.

And the last thing the younger blond wanted was to ever make him feel otherwise.

“I don’t hate you.” The words came quicker then he anticipated. He found himself grasping Wesker’s face in his hands. Found himself trapped in that pale blue gaze. It almost made him want to cry. Because it was the first time since all the chaos that he saw a hint of the person that he’s missed so much. “I don’t hate you…” He repeated.

“But you don’t want to be with me forever.” Wesker paused for a moment in deliberation, “…and you don’t want to be with me now.”

Leon didn’t say anything to that. He couldn’t, even though there was a part of him that wanted to. The air grew heavy with Leon’s silent affirmation.

“I’m sorry.” Wesker whispered. Leon could feel another tear roll over his fingers. And it looked like the entire world was finally hitting Wesker all at once. His expression grew solemn and his voice sounded fragile.  “…I know I hurt you.”

Leon wanted to say that it was ok, even though he knew it wasn’t. His first instincts was to comfort him, like he’s done countless times before but he knew that this time was different. Nothing about any of this was _ok_. And Leon questioned if it ever would be.

“You know I’ll do anything for you. You can hurt me if you want.” Wesker continued, looking desperate to be forgiven. Though it seemed like he was hurt already as the tears continued to build. “…if it’ll make you feel better.”

Leon’s hands tightened on his face, Wesker’s features blurring out of focus. And damn it, his eyes were starting to sting. But he couldn’t reign in the flood of emotions that coursed through his entire body.

“Al- fuck, I don’t _want_ to hurt you.” Leon wanted to yell but instead it came out more as a haggard breath. “I _never_ wanted to hurt you.” He felt the hot fresh streaks of tears roll down his face as the words left his lips. “I never wanted to _see_ you get hurt.” his voice turning thin, his throat feeling tight as he forced out the rest of what he wanted to say. “I’d take it all back if I could.” He felt so weighted and burdened, he hadn’t realized when his head inclined forward. Hadn’t realize until it was resting on Wesker's shoulder and it occurred to him that right at this moment he was comforting himself more then he was comforting the other man.

“I’m the one who should be sorry.” Leon emitted a soft sob. “… I never should’ve left you alone like that. I shouldn’t have-” He was starting to have another episode and he faintly wondered if Wesker would take pleasure in it again. But the other man didn’t. Instead, Leon felt the gradual pull of strong yet gentle arms around him. And that long awaited comfort only made him want to cry more.

“I’m sorry.” Leon’s breath hitched, struggling to hold it all in. His arms wrapped around Wesker’s neck and he pulled himself closer, keeping his head buried in the other man’s shoulder. His trembling limbs calmed at the sensation of Wesker’s skin against his own and he forced out a steady exhale to ease his breathing. “…you’re wrong.” Leon murmured after a while. “I _want_ to be with you. No matter what, I'll always want that.”

He felt Wesker’s shoulders stiffen, the words making him apprehensive. As if he didn’t really believe in them. But Leon persisted and at this point he wasn't sure if it was to appease Wesker or to appease himself.

“If- if it ever happens, Wesker, if something ever happens to me and it’s in your power to change it, then you have my permission to bring me back.”

Little by little the tension in Wesker’s body seeped away, like he could breathe easy again knowing that he had Leon’s approval. Leon leaned back yet stayed close, locking eyes with him once more.

“But you have to promise me something.” Leon's tone was a quiet request. Wesker was quick to agree to whatever he wanted.

“I’ll do anything.”

Leon hesitated, unsure if Wesker would really agree to it. But he at least had to try. Because it might be the only chance to make sure that everyone would turn out ok in the end.

“You have to promise me that you’ll never kill again.”

Silence engulfed the room. Wesker didn’t move. He didn’t speak and Leon could see the gears cranking in his head, like he was considering every plausible instance where it’d be acceptable for him to take a life.

“Wesker.” Leon slid his hand over the tyrant’s chest in an effort to pull him out of his thoughts. Which were no doubt exhausting all the possibilities. “I mean it.” Leon’s voice was still quiet but the force of it wasn’t lost on the other man.

“Not even if it’s to save your life?” Wesker uttered, looking conflicted as the scenario crossed his mind. Leon cupped his cheek and held it firmly with his fingers.

“Wesker, I just gave you permission to bring me back if that ever happened. So no, not even to save my own life.” Leon whispered.

He could see the instant flash of worry flicker across Wesker’s gaze and perhaps it was because Wesker was honestly worried that he might not be able to bring Leon back. And it nearly made Leon renounce what he just said. But the ex-agent knew he couldn’t do that. For the sake of everyone else that he cared about, it had to be this way.

“Promise, Wesker. Promise me that you’ll never kill again and that you’ll never hurt any of my friends.” Leon pushed.

He could tell that this wasn’t going to come easy because Wesker stubbornly refused to say anything for the longest time and Leon pulled out the last tactic that he had.

“If you’re thinking about changing me anyway, against my wishes, against everything I just said… then I’ll never forgive you. I’ll hate you forever.”

That got a reaction. He could see the tyrant’s face slightly twist in distress and he knew that the only thing that Wesker feared more then forever losing Leon, was forever being hated by Leon.

“Promise me.” Leon said again, pushing him to give in already. Because the lines on Wesker’s face were cracking, probably along with his heart. Or whatever was left of it. Another teardrop plopped into the bathwater and Wesker finally parted his lips.

“ _I_ _promise_.”

That wasn’t going to be good enough.

“Say it. All of it. Promise you’ll never kill again.” Leon was unrelenting. He needed to hear it, to know that Wesker wasn’t going to go back on his word.

“…I promise I won’t ever kill again.” Wesker repeated the younger blond’s sentence; his words as defeated as the tears on his face.

“And that you won’t hurt any of my friends.”

That one took longer than the first vow but in the end, Wesker eventually conceded.

“I promise I won’t hurt any of your friends…” the tyrant murmured.

“You won’t hurt Chris.” Leon stated.

“…I won’t hurt him.”

“No matter what?”

Silence stretched between them. Leon saw the lines tighten along Wesker’s jaw as he forced his mouth to work.

“No matter what.”

Hearing him say that made Leon all the sudden feel lighter. Like the burden on his shoulders and chest was finally lifted. He rested his forehead against Wesker again, letting out a deep breath.

“You mean it, don’t you?” Leon asked softly. Yet he already knew the answer to that. The air had changed, the pressure lessened, the tension between them dissipating after what felt like ages of bitter anger.

“I said I’d do anything for you. Give up everything for you.... You know I will. I already have.” Wesker responded. He wasn't wrong there. He's already done the unspeakable for Leon and Leon didn't doubt him now. The younger blond felt a hand run down the dip of his spine. The kind of touch that was long missed. “I love you, Leon.”

Leon pressed his face in Wesker’s neck to alleviate the stinging pain in his eyes at hearing those words. His body relaxed against Wesker's and for the first time in over two months it felt like he regained a semblance of the life they both had before. Where it was just the two of them in Leon’s apartment and Al wasn't a crazy serial killer but instead just a grumpy cat.

“I love you too…” Leon murmured. Because in truth, he _did_ still love Wesker. He loved the tyrant before he knew his true identity and he loved him even now. Because on the grand scale of things, nothings really changed. Wesker wasn't a drastically different person from before or after. He's the same as he's always been. It just took Leon a while to realize it, to fully accept that he was in love with a monster. But to his own shock and alarm he actually didn't mind the notion anymore.

After all, Wesker was _his_ monster.

/////////////

“Chris, this is Piers Nivans. He’s been assigned as your partner. He’ll also be looking after you throughout your recovery.”

When O’Brian introduced the fresh face of an army soldier, Chris hardly paid him any mind.

Besides, he had more _important_ things to focus on. Like his own well-being for one. He’s been in physical therapy for the past two months, strengthening his muscles and learning how to walk again. Everything else was in working order. His jaw had healed. He could chew moderately well. No pain in any joints besides his _damn legs_.

Chris huffed in exhaustion. Currently, he was back at the medical gym, grasping the handrails of the treadmill and struggling to keep his balance as he walked the belt that was set on a slow and steady speed. He faltered in his steps and nearly took a plunge face first but a hand instantly caught him before he could fall.

“You ok, captain?”

It was that new guy, Piers. He’s been showing up the past couple of weeks to keep an eye on Chris. Always within adequate distance in case he needed help. Always asking if he needed assistance.

It was fucking annoying.

“I’m fine.” Chris snapped, his voice haggard. He vocals still rusty from not talking for over a month. He righted himself on the treadmill and continued to walk on wobbly legs that threatened to stumble again.

“Would you like me to help you?” Piers asked.

“No, I’m fine.” Chris shook him off and kept his face down so he could make sure his feet didn’t trip over each other.

“I’ll be right over here if you need anything.” And with that, Piers drifted away. _Thank God._ Chris has rarely spoken to the other man. Hardly knew anything about him really. Other than the basics. Short brown hair, athletic build, puppy dog eyes. Also, the fact that he was in the army as an S ranked sniper.

Perhaps Chris would’ve been impressed at any other time, but not now. Not when he was at his lowest. Not when Piers could see his every fall and failed attempt at getting better. And why the hell was he even here to begin with? He didn’t need a damn baby sitter just because he almost died. He had Claire and Jill for that. Did O’Brian put Piers up to this?

He finished his session more or less with his dignity still intact and headed off to grab his stuff. Not surprisingly, he found Piers waiting for him in the lobby.

“Hey, captain.” Piers greeted with an amiable smile. “Would you like me to carry your bag?”

Chris fought the urge to sigh aloud but instead just shook his head.

“Look, pal-”

“Sorry, but can I just say I’m a huge fan? Because I am. All those stories of the B.O.W.s you killed were really popular at the training academy.” Piers talked like a devoted fan and when he looked at Chris, there was nothing but stars in his eyes.

“I’m sure we’ll make a great team, I can’t wait to learn from you!” said Piers animatedly.

Chris paused after he heard that.

He was pretty sure this was the most they’ve spoken to each other since O’Brian introduced them. And he couldn’t get over the fact that Piers was acting like Chris was a walking legend. Even after everything he must’ve seen while he’s watched over him these past few weeks, all the times he’s seen Chris struggle and fail and yet, it was almost like Piers was blind to it.

“Piers, -er, it’s Piers right?” Chris stammered.

“Right.”

Chris let out a quiet sigh.

“Listen, there’s nothing I can teach you. I mean, if you haven't noticed… I’m pretty banged up right now. And the only reason I ended up this way was because of my own stupid mistakes. If I was really the epic badass that everyone talks about, this never would’ve happened. So how could anyone learn from me?” Chris stated drily. “I’m sorry if you’re disappointed.”

“I’m not disappointed!” Piers was quick to cut in. “You just need time to get back on your feet. I heard what happened-”

Chris waved him away. It was almost cute how the younger man tried to defend his honor like that. But Chris couldn’t afford to get caught up in another fruitless partnership. He didn’t need another partner. What he needed was to get his best friend back.

“If you know what happened, then you know that I don’t have the time for anything or anyone.”

Piers turned quiet and it almost made Chris feel bad. Probably because of those damn puppy dog eyes.

“You seem like a good guy. And normally, I would leap at the chance to take someone under my wing but I’m just not capable right now. And there’s something else I have to do first.” Chris said, trailing off in a resentful mutter. Remembering every detail of that cold and terrible night. It was the reason he was currently in such a pathetic state.

“Like what?” Piers asked innocently.

Chris didn’t say anything for a while. But then eventually gave in to the other man’s curiosity. It wasn’t like it was much of a secret anyway if everyone was already talking about it. Besides, despite his earlier qualms, he was actually starting to like the guy.

Maybe…they could be partners after all.

“Like getting revenge on a certain fucking tyrant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 😉


End file.
